


Wrong Side of Heaven

by enc0432



Series: Blood, Tears, and Gold [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Assassination Attempt(s), Canon Compliant, Cults, M/M, Poison, Post-Game(s), Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-02-28 07:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2723090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enc0432/pseuds/enc0432
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I don't know why I really needed an assassination attempt on the Inquisitor so I thought I'd write it. Set about a year after the events of the game and canon-compliant until that point. Spoiler alert!!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Followers of Who?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So a couple of things. This kind of started with Dragon Age 2 and my friend and I having an unhealthy obsession with the Followers of She. Even though they were just generic bad guys in the game we wanted to know who the hell She was. Anyways to the spoilery part. This story assumes the relationship with Dorian was serious, Mahanon sided with the mages, drank from the Temple of Mythal, and that Dorian did go back to Tevinter. It starts off in Wycome where Clan Lavellan ended up causing trouble at the end of my game so Cullen and Mahanon ride out to calm things in the city down now that Corypheus is dead.

Something was wrong. Mahanon opened his eyes and jumped out of bed. The door exploded the next second, a dagger embedding itself in his chest. He pulled it out and threw it at his attacker, lodging it in the man’s eye as his fellow tried to decapitate him with a sword. He ducked just in time, feeling the tip nick his throat, before grabbing the flat of the blade in both hands and tugging. It was a desperate move, cutting his hands in the process, but it worked. The thug hadn’t been expecting it and was tugged off balance. Mahanon couldn’t quite rip the sword away, his palms were too slick with blood. So he kneed the man in the groin now that he had him close, dropping him. That left one, a mage who grinned at him wickedly, raising his arms to cast. 

“For the Followers of S-”

He was cut off by the dagger slicing his throat. Cole let the man drop, looking around the room with calm eyes. Mahanon turned to kneel next to the groaning swordsman on the floor. 

“You’re hurt.” 

Now that the fight was over Mahanon could feel the truth of that. His hands and chest burned, his shirt wet with blood. He could bide for a few more minutes though. His attention was focused on the gurgling noises emitting from the man on the floor. He was smiling, mouth starting to froth. 

“The Followers of…She have succeeded…” 

Mahanon grabbed him by the shirt. “The Followers of who?” 

“Inquisitor…he’s dying. He took poison.” 

The man coughed, already slipping. He started coughing, the blood mixing with his saliva. Mahanon let him drop in disgust, the light leaving his eyes. As he rose he stumbled straight into Cole, black spots flickering across his vision. Cole braced his shoulders. Mahanon shook his head, trying to clear his vision. 

“Cole. Get Cassandra.” 

“The blades, they coated them in poison. You’re dying too.” 

“Well…shit.” 

That was the last he could manage before he blacked out.

~~

Cassandra was pacing outside of the Inquisitor’s door, certain her concern was palpable. It had been a long, terrible night, and there seemed to be no end in sight. True to Cole’s words, Mahanon was fighting for his very life. And there was nothing she could do to help. She had arrived too late, to find the elf looking very much the way those who feared the Dalish expected them to look. A feral, tattooed creature covered in blood and surrounded by corpses. Only the blood had been his own, the poison already taking its toll. She could only hope the healers, both human and elven, could help him. 

Cole chose that moment to reappear, shaking his head. “Not the spiders again. Why is it always spiders?” 

Cassandra sighed, not even having the energy to ask. “Were you able to help him?” 

“The antidote came too late. But he is strong. He fights against the poison. The old elf does not know how he has lasted this long. He walks in the fade now.” 

“Thank you Cole.” 

She was still uneasy around the boy, but time and again he had helped save the elf’s life. Like tonight. She did not want to know what would have happened if Cole hadn’t found Mahanon when he did. _It was a mistake to come to Wycome. I should have been more insistent we stay at Skyhold._ Much to her chagrin, Cole caught that. 

“It's not your fault. He would have come with or without you. Skyhold is too empty for him now.” 

Cassandra opened her mouth to remind Cole to stay out of their heads, only to be interrupted by the door opening. The aged Keeper of clan Lavellan emerged with the local healer in tow, both looking drained. Istimaethoriel, a name Cassandra hadn’t even attempted to pronounce, frowned when he saw her. His First emerged as well, black eyes as troubled as his elder’s. The Keeper looked ready to say his piece when the human healer bowed, cutting off whatever the elf was about to say. 

“Most Holy. I want to reassure you _I_ have done everything I can for the Inquisitor. Without the elves’ interference I m-”

Cassandra waved her hand. “I am not Divine yet, and even then I would not want some sugar-coated version of the truth Ser Hammond. Keeper Lavellan how is he?” 

“To put it plainly, he was given the antidote too late and lost too much blood. If he makes it through the night he might have a chance. But only just. If you’ll excuse me, I want to explore some volumes I have tucked away that may hold some answers.” 

“Of course. Let me know if there are any resources you need access too. Ser Hammond shall assist your research in any way he can.” 

The man stiffened visibly, but was just smart enough not to argue. Not with the Inquisitor’s life at stake. The older elf turned, gesturing the First to follow him. The young man paused, then looked to Cassandra. 

“If it is alright, Lady Pentaghast, I would like to stay. Praying seems to be the only thing we can do now.” 

“I would not turn you or your prayers away at such a time.” 

The Keeper’s frown deepened. “Ma nuevin Da’len. Ir na abelas.” 

The First bowed his head, as if in acquiescence. The tone of disapproval didn’t fit the words granting permission. Cassandra put that away to puzzle over later. She gave a final nod to the two gentlemen and entered the room, taking the chair next to Mahanon’s bed. He looked terrible, eyes roving in his sleep, the skin that was normally dark as an acorn far too pale and sickly looking. 

She bowed her head and clasped her hand together, readying herself for this vigil. “Though all around me is shadow…” 

~~

Dorian sighed yet again, pouring over his letter to Mahanon. He knew coming back home was going to be difficult, but it had been far worse than he had imagined. He found he missed Skyhold despite how blasted cold the castle was, and now found Minrathous too warm and empty. The people he had thought he missed here, the ones he had been so determined to fight for, had nothing on the man he had left behind. He set his quill down and rubbed his temples, trying to get a certain pair of green eyes out of his head. Dorian had already decided he was heading back in six months during the summer. He just had to bide until then. Giving up on his own missive he threw sand on what he had and set it aside. He pulled out the elf’s last letter, smiling to himself at the familiar hand. It was untidy and rough, the letter a mess of scratches and ink blots. And it was entirely Mahanon. 

_Dearest Dorian…_  

_Are you really coming home that soon? Please say yes so I don’t fall to begging. It’s undignified how often I’m on my knees for you. First things first, Cole would like you to know there is a package on the way that will help but he won’t tell me what’s in it. Oh and I love you. Now back to this secret package thing…_

He fell into reading, sipping at his wine and chuckling as he reread Mahanon’s account of their trip to the Hissing Wastes and the giant spiders and wyverns that had almost eaten the Iron Bull. Every now and then Mahanon reminded him that he loved him and that he was an ass for leaving. Dorian was inclined to agree. He was absorbed, so he didn’t hear the knock at the door, or see his father enter. 

“Is that the letter from the Inquisitor again?” 

His eyes snapped up and for a moment Dorian was sixteen again, debating shoving the note from his latest romp under what he was really supposed to be working on. He exhaled though, recalling himself, and nodded. 

“It is.” 

His father seemed hesitant, hand on the doorway. Dorian was already irritated. 

“If this is to be another lecture about him being an elf-” 

The man raised a hand, pulling a paper from his robes. “No. It is not that. A note arrived not ten minutes ago from the Inquisition. My son I…”

Dorian did not like the look on his father’s face one bit. It smacked of regret. 

“Father what is it?” 

“The elf is…he was attacked in Wycome. He did not survive.” 

Dorian froze. _No, it cannot…he cannot be…No!_  

“You lie!” 

He got to his feet, crossing the desk. He ripped the letter from his father’s hands. Cullen’s hand. 

_Dorian,_

_I deeply regret that this duty has fallen to me. Mahanon was attacked by a cult in Wycome. They used poison blades, and the healers were unable to administer the antidote in time…_

He crumpled the letter in his hand, shaking his head. “No. This cannot be. This-”

He choked on the words, falling to his knees. He barely registered his father’s hands on him, voice gentle. All he heard was the roaring in his ears as the world fell apart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I messed up. When I first started writing this I checked Istimaethoriel's name but the wiki didn't have the fact she was a woman and I never saw it in game so I guessed. I was wrong, and I'm sorry. I like keeping things canon if I can.


	2. No One's Here to Sleep

“I do love you too you know.” 

Mahanon didn’t look up from the dagger he was edging. He was trying not to smile. 

“Do you now?” 

“Yes yes. And before you get all sentimental on me again, just know it’s probably the brandy Varric has been plying me with all morning talking.” 

“Ah.” Mahanon slid the whetstone up the blade. “And why has Varric been plying you with brandy all morning?” 

Dorian sat down next to him, back to the stone wall. Unlike Mahanon, he didn’t have any special fondness for heights. 

“I’ve decided I’m not going.” 

His lips twitched despite himself. “Going where?” 

The mage sighed dramatically. “Do try to keep up amatus. You know I was going back to Tevinter.” 

“But now you’re not.” Mahanon set his dagger and whetstone aside, tilting his head. “Why is that?”

“Fasta vass you know why.” Dorian grabbed his chin, pulling him into a kiss. 

Mahanon didn’t taste any of this reported brandy, but he wasn’t about to point that out. When they came up for air he noticed Dorian had wrapped one of his arms around his waist so that he wouldn’t fall off the top of the battlement. He looked down and grinned. 

“So you do care.”

Dorian pressed his forehead to Mahanon’s. “I just assume you look better not splattered all over the courtyard. Imagine the scandal it would cause.” 

“Lethallin I hate to interrupt but…” 

_That voice._ Mahanon got to his feet, turning rapidly. Sure enough, it was Sulahn. His face was grave, the dark vallaslin covering half of his face somehow even darker than he remembered. Apprehension coursed through Mahanon at the sight of his old lover, though he was not sure why. Something was off about his presence though. He shouldn’t be here. 

“What are you doing here?” 

The other elf was looking around, curious expression on his face. “So this is your heart’s desire? A Tevinter Magister and a castle? Really?” 

Mahanon clenched his jaw as Dorian rose to his feet. “Ah yes. An elf who hates humans. How original.” 

“Do not address me demon.” Sulahn’s eyes flashed as he looked at Dorian. “You cannot have him.” 

Dorian laughed, looking perplexed. Mahanon frowned, the knot in his stomach growing. 

“Sulahn?” 

“This isn’t real emma vhenan. None of it. Not even _him_. You’re trapped in the Fade.” 

To be fair, that did explain why Dorian had changed his mind. It hadn’t happened that way. Mahanon turned to Dorian, who looked at him warmly. 

“Are you a demon?” 

“Does it matter? You’re happy here. We can be together.” 

There were those damned puppy eyes. Mahanon sighed. _Fucking demons._ He looked at Sulahn. 

“How do I know you’re real?” 

“Wake up and see Mahanon. You just have to _wake up_.” 

So he did. Mahanon opened his eyes to find Cassandra snoring softly in a chair next to him, Sulahn nowhere in sight. He had a feeling the damned fool had done something unsavory to get him out of the Fade. Which he was certain he was no longer in, mostly because he felt like he’d been trampled by a bronto. He sat up, not expecting his body to be as sore as it was. He tried to choke back a groan but Cassandra woke up anyways, dazed only for a moment. 

“You’re awake.” 

“So it seems.” He took stock of his bandaged hands and stitched chest. “How long was I out?” 

“Three days. Oh thank the Maker I wasn’t sure…” She shook her head. “It is good you survived.” 

Mahanon tilted his head. “Alright, how bad was it?” 

Cassandra snorted, getting to her feet. “Worse than when you stepped out of the Fade.” 

“That…is unsettling.” 

He tried to rise and Cassandra placed a hand on his chest, gently but firmly rebuffing him. 

“What do you need?” 

He didn’t have the energy to fight her, laying back down. “A stiff drink and to talk to Istimaethoriel.” 

“I will fetch the Keeper. If you can go all the way downstairs and pour yourself the drink then you may have it.” 

“You are a cruel woman Most Holy.” 

She made a disgusted noise and shook her head. “Keep it up Inquisitor and I will write Dorian and tell him what happened in excruciating detail.” 

“I’ll just have to settle for this divine looking water then.” 

“Good lad.” She paused at the door, turning back. “I am glad you are alright Mahanon.” 

He inclined his head and she left. _Dorian the things you miss._ He stared at the ceiling, trying to pretend the ache in his heart wasn’t there. He had survived, and he would see Dorian again. Whatever it took. 

~~

_Two weeks before Dorian was set to leave, Mahanon was suddenly completely absent from all of his duties. No meetings, no messengers appearing to call him away, and not a word from any of the advisors. Instead, Mahanon was somehow able to spend whole days and nights with Dorian. He would have called the elf canceling all of his duties ridiculous, a silly notion that the needs of the Inquisition were suddenly less important than Dorian. Would have, if he wasn’t going to miss the damned Dalish so much._

_Yet the guilt weighed on him. He didn’t know how long he was going to be gone, and as much as he wanted Mahanon to wait for him, he couldn’t ask that of the elf. The man was the Inquisitor after all, in command of a kingdom’s worth of forces. He was wealthy, powerful, and handsome to boot. He had every right to move on after Dorian left.  He decided he had to let Mahanon know that Dorian didn’t expect him to wait._

_He left it too late. Having Mahanon’s undivided attention for a change proved too much of a temptation. Thus, it was the night before they were going to set out before he even broached the subject. They were on the balcony, actually watching the stars, Dorian keeping the elf wrapped tightly in his arms. He shifted the blanket around them, trying to find the right words._

_“Dorian if you sigh one more time I might start to think you’re going to miss me.”_

_He chuckled a little, but even that hurt. The elf twisted in his arms. He saw the concern there and cast his eyes down. Mahanon tilted his head._

_“There’s something else besides you leaving isn’t there?”_

Damn him. _No one else had ever been so good at reading Dorian. It was rather off-putting at times._

_“Amatus I…” He broke off, disentangling himself from the elf and going back inside. “I just need you to know if while I’m away and someone else catches your eye, so to speak, you should feel free to be with them.”_

_“‘Catches my eye?’”_

_Dorian nodded, forcing levity into his voice. “Strikes your fancy, stirs your loins, gives you butterflies. You know what I’m saying.”_

_“Fenedhis emma vhenan! What brought this madness on?”_

_“It is not madness. I know who you are. What you are. I cannot ask you to…”_

_The elf glared at him. “You think I would do that to you? Or that I’m even capable?”_

_“Kaffas! That is not what I meant.”_

_“Is that what you want then? To be free of any obligation before you leave?”_

_“No!” Dorian pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course not.”_

_Now he felt like a fool. He’d fucked this whole conversation up. The elf watched him, brow furrowed. Dorian hung his head. Mahanon’s turn to sigh then, going to his desk._

_“I was saving this for when we reached the port but I think it’s necessary now.” He grabbed something in his hand, crossing the room._

_“What is it?”_

_The elf snorted. “Hopefully something that’ll remind you of me while you’re off saving the Imperium from itself.”_

_Dorian tilted his head as Mahanon took his hand in rough ones, placing the token in his palm. It was a simple ironbark ring. The elf rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking embarrassed._

_“It’s the only thing I took with me from home that survived the conclave. My mother gave it to me when I received the vallaslin. I had hoped you might like it…”_

_Tears pricked at Dorian’s eyes and he shook his head. “Of course I do but…”_

_Mahanon curled his hand over the ring. “Then it is yours. As am I. Don’t forget that.”_

_“Never.”_

_Dorian pulled the elf into a rough embrace, narrowly missing crying. Now was not the time for tears._

The fucking memories were going to be the death of him. Or the dwarven ale he was downing like water to forget them. It didn’t work though. Mahanon was everywhere. There was no escape from the pain. He found himself staring at the man’s ring, tracing its every line and groove. _It’s my fault Amatus. I could have saved you._ _Maker forgive me._

~~

Mahanon stormed into Cullen’s room, Cassandra nipping on his heels. It didn’t matter he was dizzy, barely able to walk or even stand under his own willpower. He was too angry. 

“You told Dorian I was dead? Have you lost all of your senses?” 

“Inquisitor really this display is-”

Mahanon rounded on Cassandra. “Don’t. This display is necessary. Why would you put him through that? Either of you?” 

He swayed a little, forgoing pretense in favor of leaning on Cullen’s borrowed desk. The blonde man sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Instead of answering he pulled something from his drawer. 

“One of our men found this when we traced the Followers of She back to their rooms.” 

He placed it on the desk. Mahanon felt his stomach lurch a bit. It was Dorian’s amulet. He lifted his eyes to Cullen’s, seeing the certainty reflected there. Mahanon didn’t want it to be true, but he knew better. 

“Dorian’s being watched.” 

“We all are. I think if the attempt failed, which for all intents and purposes it hasn’t, then he was their next target. I hate to say this Lavellan but if word gets out you’re alive, he may very well be in danger.” 

Mahanon gave up standing, groping for the chair. He waved Cullen off when the man half-rose to get him. Cassandra just made a disgusted noise behind him. Mahanon took Dorian’s amulet in hand, running his thumb over the Pavus family crest. He had always thought it was hideous.

“What do we know about them?” 

“They’re a cult dedicated to She.” 

Mahanon snorted. “So the Followers of She are a cult…following She. Good work Commander.” 

“You know next time you’re assassinated you could always ask Josephine to handle the investigation.” 

“Point taken.” Mahanon slipped the amulet into his pocket. “What now?” 

Cullen leaned back, drumming his fingers on his desk. “You rest and heal. We let the rumors spread you’re dead, for now. That buys us time. Then we get you out of Wycome and back to Skyhold. Leliana and her spies will be able to find where the Followers are located.Then we eliminate them.” 

“Simple as that?” 

The other man snorted. “If we’re lucky. But we will find them Inquisitor. Count on it. This is…” 

“If you or Cassandra tell me it’s your fault one more time-”

“But it is. And we’re going to correct it.” 

Cassandra decided to chime in. “Agreed.” 

Mahanon sighed but shrugged in defeat. “I’m going back to bed. You have two weeks before I write Dorian and tell him I’m alive.” 

He rose, not waiting for the arguments. Cassandra made a move to help as groped at the door frame. He shook his head and made the long walk back on his own. He’d already made up his mind to go to Minrathos as soon as he could walk. His gut told him Dorian was still in danger, and the Inquisition was damned if they thought he was going to sit around and wait until it was too late to help him. 

~~

Sulahn watched Mahanon closely. Had been, actually, ever since he’d come to Wycome, despite Mahanon avoiding him at all costs. He wanted to see if his lover had really changed so much in so short a time. Turned out, he hadn’t. At first, Sulahn had been disgusted with him. If half the rumors were true, he was little better than the shemlen who had uplifted him. Living in a fortress, playing lord, taking a _magister_ as a lover. The thought sickened him. It wasn’t jealousy, not really. Mahanon had moved on, that was acceptable. But falling for a human, of all the stupid things to do, it had made Sulahn bitter. Even when Mahanon sent men to help the clan against bandits, or again when they’d come to Wycome and the nobles had attacked them, Sulahn blamed him for their troubles, and again for not helping them himself. 

Now, he realized how much of his anger had been remorse. Mahanon had left because of him, and having him back, even angry, was a relief. Let him be angry, if it meant having a chance to apologize, to fix things between them. To rebuild trust. First things first though. Sulahn slipped away from the clan the evening after Mahanon came to them, letting him now he lived. As usual, their Da’fen trusted too easily, letting so many people know he was alive. And as usual, it was Sulahn who was going to have to protect him from himself.  

Leaving his staff behind, Sulahn stuck to the shadows, making his way quickly to the danker parts of the city. The docks were crowded and rowdy, no one looking twice even at a Dalish elf. His contact waited for him at the Shark’s Tooth, a ruddy-faced elf uncharacteristically fat for their kind. His vallaslin were stretched thin over his features, the bright green at odds with his reddened complexion. The man waved Sulahn over enthusiastically. 

“You’re late! Is it done?” 

Sulahn wrinkled his nose, taking a chair and the mug Nehn shoved his way. “It is. He lives, and he has the amulet.” 

The noise in the tavern seemed to only increase as the older elf grinned. “Excellent. And you’re sure he’ll go after him?” 

“Aye. If there is one thing Mahanon can’t resist, it’s playing the hero. He thinks he’s in love. He’ll go.” 

“You do Fen’harel proud Sulahn.” 

Sulahn frowned, but drank with Nehn anyways. It was not the Dread Wolf's approval he was seeking, and he had to do something to crush the doubt. The fake assassination had been too close for his liking. But he would press on. Mahanon, and the clan, would thank him someday. He was sure of it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. I hate myself for doing this to Dorian. Now you know.


	3. But In the Dark, I Have No Name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know I'm kind of overusing flashbacks but I want to give you guys Dorian and Mahanon together and that's going to take a bit with the plot. Other than that thanks for the kudos!

_The elf was fascinating. His eyes were even the same color as the rifts, wild and near-feral looking. He moved like a wolf, walking without making a sound, coming and going as he pleased without being seen. He actually seemed to enjoy the woods and camping, though he spoke little to any of them, so Dorian was never quite certain. Then there was that nasty habit of disappearing for hours at a time. Slipping past the guards at night, both in Haven and in camp. Dorian had not a clue as to where he went. It was amusing how Cassandra would rage though. Apparently, it happened a lot._

_One such evening, Cassandra and Blackwall were arguing about it, Blackwall trying to convince her the Herald was a grown man and capable of taking care of himself. It was giving Dorian a headache. He’d read the same sentence five times, unable to focus with the woman yelling. He just so happened to agree with Blackwall, but he was rather fond of his good looks and didn’t relish saying as much to Cassandra’s face. Not at the moment anyways. Finally, the voices died and he looked up, almost starting visibly when he saw Mahanon. The elf was carrying a dead ram over his shoulder, dripping blood all over the floor of the tent._

_His face was lined with pain and Dorian sat up, tilting his head. “If this is some kind of Dalish mating ritual…”_

_The elf snorted. “We use nug calls for that actually.”_

_“Not hallas? Really?”_

_“Too majestic. Nugs set the mood better.”_

_The elf winced, clutching his arm. Dorian closed his book and rose._

_“Let me see that. Cassandra will have my head as well if she finds you injured.”_

_“It’s fine. Really.”_

_Dorian shook his head. “Ah yes. I forget how leaving pools of blood everywhere is considered a sign of health down here.”_

_“What’s that called in Tevinter?”_

_“Silly elf. That’s breakfast of course.”_

_Mahanon’s mouth twitched again and he set the ram down, going to Dorian’s cot. He peeled back his damaged sleeve. Whatever had been at him had ripped through the leather._

_“If it will make you feel better…”_

_Dorian rolled his eyes as he knelt before the elf and took his arm in hand. “Ah yes, stopping you from bleeding to death is for my benefit. Now correct me if I’m wrong, but the ram didn’t do this.”_

_“Ah. Not exactly, no.”_

_He almost seemed embarrassed. Dorian probed the wound as gently as he could, even still the Herald winced._

_“Can I ask why you’re killing rams like a savage in the middle of the night? Or is that too personal a question as well?”_

_Mahanon pinned him with those impossible eyes, the lantern making the shadows of his face even darker._ He hasn’t been sleeping. _The elf never stood still long enough to give any indication to his health, but Dorian could see it now. The man was exhausted. Little wonder, now that he stopped to think about it. The moment dragged on, Dorian suddenly very aware of how close Mahanon was to him, and how warm the skin under his hands felt. He raised an eyebrow in question and the elf seemed to come to a decision._

_“I’ve been hunting for the villagers. We haven’t been able to track down what’s making the wolves go crazy, and the bandits keep us too busy during the day. So I thought…”_

_“You’d take care of it at night. How…noble. And here I thought you were avoiding us humans.”_

_Mahanon grinned, suddenly wolfish. “Not all of you are so bad. Gotta do something about those ears though.”_

_Dorian chuckled and cast his spell quickly. This was getting dangerously close to something beyond flirting. It was…intimate. Too intimate for his tastes._

_“There. I think you’ll live if you stop taking on wolf packs alone.”_

_“Ma serannas lethallin.” The elf flexed his arm and rose. “Oh, and if Cassandra asks…”_

_Dorian snorted. “I shall tell her you’re dancing naked in the moonlight like a proper elf.”_

_Mahanon smiled again, not looking quite as tired. He bent and picked up the goat, leaving as silently as he had come. The next night, Dorian was eating with Cassandra and Blackwall, the conversation turning towards taking out the mages now that the rogue templars had been dealt with. He found he was looking for the elf, not consciously realizing he was doing so until their eyes met, the elf pausing at the edge of the camp. One foot in the firelight, one in the dark. He pressed a solitary finger to his lips and slipped off into the night with a smile._

~~

Mahanon packed lightly. His normal clothes, minus the light armor plate for his chest and arms. His collection of daggers. Dorian’s amulet and a book of Tevinter poetry he’d been rather forcibly assigned before the man left. Skin cream to hide the vallaslin and a cloak to hide his ears. It was easy enough to slip something in his new bodyguard’s drink, leaving the sleeping tonic in plain view in case Cullen was inclined to blame the man instead of Mahanon himself. He left in the middle of the night, trying to ignore Revas’ baleful eyes as he saddled a horse instead of the hart. He didn’t want to leave the creature behind, but riding him into Tevinter was just begging for the slavers to notice he was an elf. 

That knot in his stomach tightened as he rode. He felt moderately guilty for leaving like a thief, but it was nothing on his guilt where Dorian was concerned. Hundreds of leagues apart, and the man was still in danger because of him. It was enough to make him ride through the night, only stopping in the morning for the horse’s sake. He found a cave next to a stream, big enough to hide him and the horse, which he’d mentally dubbed Crookytail, from the road. He unsaddled the creature and went to get them some water, trying to focus on his surroundings and not his increasing anxiety. 

It didn’t help when he got to the cave and an all too familiar voice met his ears. “You really didn’t think that would work, did you?” 

~~

He wasn’t quite sure how he managed to sober up, but he did. It took two days and the worst hangover of his life. A comfortable numbness had settled over Dorian, something he hid in. When everything got less blurry and the pain started to creep back in, he took a hot bath. Fixed his hair, trimmed his mustache. Anything to keep his mind off what had happened. The grief was too vast, threatening to drown him if he looked directly at it. Instead, he kept his hands busy. He had work to do. Letters to write. The responses came back far more quickly than he’d anticipated. Leliana had been aggravatingly vague, telling him she was sorry but had nothing for him. Josephine had asked him to be patient like that was a reasonable expectation. It was bullshit, but luckily Varric and Iron Bull had been more forthcoming. They both had nothing but rumors, being as stonewalled as he was by official channels. 

But they had given him a name. The Followers of She. 

Armed with that, he went down to breakfast for the first time since Cullen’s first letter. Both of his parents seemed surprised to find him there, his presence shocking them into silence. Thankfully, they didn’t try to talk to him. His mother just passed him a plate of grapes, graceful fingers touching his for but a moment, before turning back to bicker with his father about her spending budget for the month. It was exactly like every other morning before he’d left home, and he ate quickly. It was like chewing ash, but academically he knew he needed something. 

He had work to do. 

~~

“You really didn’t think that would work, did you?” 

Sulahn had a shit-eating grin on his face. There had been a time when Mahanon had loved that smile and all it promised. Now he wanted knock his teeth out. Might've, if Cassandra and Cole didn’t step into the cave. 

“Give me one good reason not to drag you back to Skyhold by your ear.” 

Mahanon refused to turn his back on Sulahn, but he did turn his head slightly to glare at Cassandra. 

“Because I am not an errant child?” 

She snorted, folding her arms. “Could have fooled me.” 

“He needs me. He could be killed. Body broken, bloody, bruised…I have to help him. Both of you are afraid.” Cole looked between the two of them. “You shouldn’t argue. It just makes the hurt worse.” 

“Sulahn you need to go back then. It’s too dangerous.” 

Mahanon was losing, but he could mitigate the damage. Bad enough Dorian was in danger. He didn’t need Sulahn involved as well. Whatever he felt for him now. The First’s smile just deepened. 

“Oh no emma vhenan. This is far too entertaining.” 

“Fenedhis! Ar tu na’din!” He turned to Cassandra and Cole. “Accompany me if you feel you must, but I’m not going back. Now leave us. I have to speak with Sulahn alone.” 

Cassandra was clearly not done having it out. Cole frowned. 

“Nose broken, copper taste in mouth. ‘Ar tu na’din Sulahn!’ Why do you want to hurt him?” 

Mahanon took a steadying breath, trying not to lose his temper. “I’ll explain later Cole. Don’t worry. I’m not going to hurt anybody who doesn’t deserve it. Cass…please.” 

She was eyeing Sulahn warily. She caught Mahanon’s eye and nodded. 

“Come along Cole. We should find fresh food while we still have the chance.” 

When they were out of earshot Mahanon turned to Sulahn, clenching his fists. 

“Go back. I don’t want your help.” 

“If I knew you were going to be so grateful…” 

He clenched his jaw. “Should you be rewarded for doing the right thing? After everything you put me through to begin with?” 

“Yes I wounded you severely I see. Poor Da’fen with his castle and all of the shems scraping their noses on the floor in his presence.” 

“Vishante kaffas I have met Orlesian nobles less obnoxious and spoilt than you.” 

“You didn’t have to run straight to the shems. Not because of me.” 

Mahanon snorted, shaking his head. “You think that the Keeper came to me after all of that and asked what I wanted? He gave me the choice. Leave of my own free will, do something to aid the people, or be cast out and never allowed to return. It was made very clear to me I was not supposed to come home after I found out what I could from the humans.” 

For the first time, Sulahn showed a glimpse of the man he used to be. The sweet boy Mahanon had grown up with and not whatever bitter man he was trying to be now. 

“I…I thought you didn’t want to come back. Not after the humans uplifted you like they did. I thought you’d changed.” 

“No. That was you.” Mahanon ran a hand through his hair, suddenly exhausted. “Go back. Please. We can work it out once I rescue Dorian.” 

Sulahn’s face shuttered again, his lips curling unpleasantly. “Ah yes. Him.” 

“If you loathe the idea of me loving a human so much then _go home_.” 

“No. I think I’ll stay. Rescue your pet with you.” Sulahn gave an exaggerated bow. “Your Worship.” 

He slipped past Mahanon with another sly grin. His borrowed horse snorted and Mahanon turned on him. 

“Now don’t you start.” 

The horse just shook his man in response, then started snuffing at the saddlebags for treats. Mahanon sighed and went to find him an apple. 

~~

Dorian slammed the volume closed, letting out a long string of curses. The cleric running the university library gave him a withering glance. Or attempted to, until he recognized who he was glaring at. Dorian ignored him, ready to start drinking again. Try as he might, he could not find one useful scrap of information on these Followers of She. They had originated in the Imperium. That was as far as he had gotten. Not one single hint as to who She was, or why the group would have gone after…He shook his head and frowned at the book like it was its fault for being useless. Giving up for the night he decided to go back to the manse. His father might have books he missed. 

He didn’t speak to anyone on the way out. His former peers avoided him like the plague. Something he was grateful for. They no longer had anything in common, if they ever truly did. Funny, how he had become better friends with a Qunari than the people he had grown up with. Flouting every tradition would do that he supposed. Or falling in love with the heretical Herald of Andraste. 

Dorian realized he’d been so lost in thought he had wandered. His feet had carried him to his favorite part of Minrathous. It was a park of all places, the one where he’d met Alexius for the first time, chasing some stray papers the breeze had decided to free. It was empty this time of night, quiet. In all honesty, he’d rather be here than at the manse. The walls that had once felt safe were now threatening to stifle the little life he had left in him. He was so lost in the thought he never saw what knocked him out. 


	4. No Chance, No Way, I Won't Say It

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so someone pointed out that the Followers of She do, canonically, follow a desire demon named Hankers. That's not the case here. With that cleared up let's venture forth.

_Skyhold was incredible. It was. Mahanon should be able to sleep now that they were as safe as they could be while Corypheus was alive. Elves apparently didn’t do well inside stone walls though. It could be homesickness. He missed his clan something awful. Or maybe it was the nightmares he could never seem to remember, leaving him panting and sweaty, terrified of things he had no name for. It was what led Mahanon to wandering the halls of the empty fortress at night when no one else was around. His intention had not been to go to the library again, yet he found his feet taking him there anyways, and he didn’t fight the urge. Dorian was still up, like he had been the last three nights in a row. Mahanon crept in quietly. He enjoyed watching Dorian read. The man had incredible concentration, and it was the one activity where he would remain silent for long stretches of time. Dorian turned a page slowly, the rustling the only noise in the tower. The candlelight danced across his dark skin. He_ was _rather attractive, when he wasn’t playing the peacock._

_And it was just an act. He was a good man, intelligent, and kind when he wanted to be. He had risked his life and gone against a friend to save Mahanon, and it was something the elf would never forget. Dorian was driven, obviously not seeking approval for his actions. He wouldn’t have come south otherwise, and he had never sought thanks from anyone in the Inquisition despite what he’d done for them. He did have Mahanon’s respect though, for whatever that was worth. Lately, he had his attention as well._

_“Are you enjoying the show Inquisitor or did you come for something in particular?”_

_Mahanon grinned. “The show Dorian. As always.”_

_“A lesser man might be turned off by all this skulking around.”_

_“Good thing you’re not a lesser man. What are you reading?”_

_Dorian finally looked up, smiling a little. “‘A Study on the Constellations of Southern Thedas and Their Historical Significance by First Enchanter Marcel Giordano.’ He has a fascinating take on-you don’t care about this at all, do you?”_

_Mahanon shook his head, chuckling. “Not even a little but I do enjoy listening to you go on.”_

_“The sound of my voice is rather marvelous isn’t it?” Dorian tilted his head. “Well if you have nothing better to do…”_

_“What could be better than listening to you pontificate on shemlen history?” Mahanon folded his legs and leaned against the bookcase closest to Dorian’s chair._

_“I expect you to pay attention. This requires significantly more concentration than throwing knives and stabbing bandits in the kidney.”_

_He snorted at the mage. “Says the man who has never actually tried stabbing a bandit in the kidney. When you’re not half a league away from the battle they can grab quite a bit of your attention.”_

_That got the Vint going. They fell into a now familiar pattern of bantering. It helped. Mahanon wasn’t sure if Dorian felt the same, or if there was any other reason he was awake other than academic curiosity. But he liked to think the feeling was mutual. That at the very least, they were friends helping each other keep the dark at bay._

Mahanon found himself staring at the stars. Of course, he was thinking of Dorian instead of sleeping. Worrying. Always worrying. It didn’t help Dorian’s lessons on the human names for constellations, and their stories, had stuck. Even though he had fallen asleep during half of his lessons, lulled by Dorian’s voice. He swallowed past the lump on his throat and got up. The stars were the only light that night. They hadn’t lit a fire, not wanting to draw undue attention. 

It was taking every bit of self-control not to run away again. To let Cassandra and Cole help him. But he had caused Cassandra enough grief of late. He joined her on the rock she was keeping watch on, examining her armor. She spotted him but didn’t say anything as he sat, folding his legs to his chest. He wrapped his arms around them and glanced at the sword. 

“Should the Divine have such battered bracers Most Holy?” 

She snorted, strapping the piece back on. “What would _you_ prefer I wear Inquisitor?” 

“Long flowing robes, the hat. Imagine the shock on everyone’s faces when you whip out your sword during the chant.” 

Cassandra shook her head, fighting a smile. He elbowed her gently before resting his head on his arms. 

“I never did thank you for coming after me, did I?” 

“You can thank Sulahn. He was the one who warned me you were probably going to sneak off.” She raised her eyebrows. “We have been over what a terrible idea this is, correct? You are a fool. Dorian would say as much.” 

Mahanon sighed, keeping his eyes on the horizon. “I know. But he’s…If anything happened to him, I would never forgive myself.” 

“I know. Which is why I have not clubbed you on the head and carried you back to Wycome. Besides.” She drew her own knees to her chest. “It’s terribly romantic...Pretend I didn't say that.” 

He bit back a smile. “Say what?” 

Cassandra smiled sideways at him. "Not to mention it keeps me from having to go to Val Royeaux just that much longer." 

"Is the Divine shirking her duties? For one last grand adventure? This is turning into one of Varric's books." 

"Remind me what we are doing in the Free Marches again Your Worship?" 

He did smile then, though he had to do it around the ache in his chest. "Point taken." 

They fell into silence after that, watching the horizon. No signs of trouble just yet, but Mahanon had never been much of an optimist. 

~~

Sulahn was surprised when the Seeker came up to him after Mahanon and Cole had gone off to hunt. He had been avoiding her and the creepy kid, not knowing how to act around either. That, and he was fairly certain the woman could break him with her pinky. Should she find out…He forced himself to stare at her with wide eyes as she approached. He needed to be the frightened rabbit around her. Or so he thought. 

“Sulahn…” She shifted her weight, almost nervously. “I wanted to thank you for your help. Without you Mahanon might have gotten himself captured or killed before we could get to him.” 

That had not been the talk he was expecting. These shems following Mahanon around continued to surprise him. He found he was staring at the woman, and cleared his throat. 

“You and yours are not the only people who care for him. Da’fen is…special.” 

She nodded, mouth twitching a little. Almost as if to smile. 

“That is-Ready yourself for a fight” 

She had already drawn her sword. Sulahn hadn’t heard a thing but he raised his staff. True to her word, ten men on horseback appeared in the distance. 

“Sulahn run.” 

“What?” 

She glared at him. “Run! The worst they can do is kill me.” 

“That is not the worst they can do shem. I’m not running.” 

Not even he believed he had said the words until they were out of his mouth. Cassandra just raised her weapon. Sulahn made a quick decision and slammed his staff to the ground. Every single man’s tunic caught fire. The horses panicked, some throwing their riders. All except for one. Somehow Sulahn had missed him. He scrambled off his horse, raising his fist as Sulahn went for another spell. Then he felt something hit him like a bolder, his magic dissipating completely. Sulahn gasped as the man grinned wickedly at Casandra. 

“Your pet is useless now.” 

Their swords met. Cassandra didn’t reply, focusing on the sword play. Sulahn tried his magic again but it wouldn’t come. He had never felt so helpless in his life. Some of the men had recovered from the fire, and were now circling towards them. 

“Grab the elf! I’ll take care of the bitch!” 

Sulahn grabbed his knife, for all the good it would do. They had lost. Cassandra was easily the man’s better with the sword, but he only needed to keep her at bay long enough for his men to grab Sulahn. Good as she was, she was outnumbered. _Mahanon where in the name of the Creators are you?_ The men cornered him against a rock. He lashed out with the knife, momentarily satisfied when it bit into flesh. The man cursed and swatted his wrist, disarming him. Another grabbed him, pinning his arms. A dagger came to his throat. The leader grinned. 

“Drop your sword or the elf dies.” 

Cassandra paused, sword up, and looked over her shoulder. Resigned she actually did cast the sword aside, glaring daggers at the band’s leader. He smiled cruelly before hitting her in the temple. She crumpled to the ground, making Sulahn sick with horror. He was too stunned to put up a fight as he was dragged off. 

~~

_“Quick words hide a gentle heart.”_

_Dorian blinked. He’d been watching Mahanon spar with Cassandra and Cullen, his teeth flashing white against his copper skin. His dark hair had the most interesting strands of gold flecked through it in the sun, and his eyes were dancing with mirth. It took him a moment to realize Cole was speaking to him._

_“Apologies Cole. What was that?”_

_“You both do it. Hide behind your words. You say one thing and mean another. You tell him you hate him and you don’t. Why is that?”_

_Dorian sighed. “Why ask me? Why not him?”_

_“Because he thinks the words, even if he doesn’t say them. You hide away. Even though you feel them, you won’t think them. You are afraid. He knows that.”_

_“Fentis bei umo canavrum.”_

_Thankfully, Mahanon chose that moment to take a break. “Cole why don’t you join us? You’re the only around who is faster than me.”_

_“I would like that.”_

_“Good. Go get started with Cassandra.”_

_Cole hopped to it. Dorian opened his mouth but was interrupted by Mahanon cupping his face and kissing him. Dorian heard Bull’s wolf whistle and someone clapping, and kissed Mahanon back, hiding his embarrassment in the elf. The man truly didn’t care everyone could see them. Breath coming a little fast Mahanon broke the kiss before smiling against Dorian’s lips. Dorian returned it, pleased._

_“What was that for amatus?”_

_“Because I could ma sa’lath.” He pressed his sweaty brow against Dorian’s. “And because you looked troubled. Better?”_

_Dorian nodded. He honestly didn’t have a reply to that. Cole was right. He was a terrible coward. His heart swelled, with the love he felt, yet here he was, choking on the words. Mahanon only smiled though, stepping back._

_“It's alright emma vhenan. Everything is going to be alright.”_

_He walked away slowly, holding Dorian’s gaze. Dorian realized he believed him. It had been true since the beginning. He could, and did trust Mahanon. He didn’t have to be afraid._

Dorian reached for Mahanon before remembering what he was doing. His mind flinched away from the thought even as he felt the bind on his wirsts.  He opened his eyes. He was definitely not anywhere on his parent’s property, or any part of Minrathous he had seen before. And his head was killing him. He scanned the room he was in. It was nice enough. Not dissimilar from his own appointments. Antivan rugs though. He wrinkled his nose, trying to sit up. He made it haphazardly to his knees and sat up. His fingers were numb, but other than that and the headache he was unharmed. 

It took about an hour of trying to puzzle through what was happening before a woman walked in. He had never seen her before, he knew that much at least. She was dressed like any other noble woman in Tevinter. He wondered how he didn’t recognize her face. She had a slave in tow, the elven woman keeping her eyes on the ground as she carried a tray of food. Dorian looked from the slave to her mistress, thinking. The woman’s clothes looked right, but they weren’t. The materials were wrong, made of cheap cloths even if they were impeccably styled. The same with the appointments. He would guess there was a lot of gold-plate rather than actual gold in the room. Everything started to click even as the woman spoke.

“Master Pavus. Good to see you’re awake.” 

“Ah yes. Forgive me I do not believe we are acquainted. I typically wait until the third date for this kind of fun.” 

To his surprise, she smiled at the joke. “I do apologize for the brutality. We can’t have you magicking your way out, you see.” 

“Ah yes that _would_ be problematic.” He waited for the elf to set down her tray and leave, before looking into the woman’s eyes. “Now if we could just cut the bullshit and get to what you want from me, my lady She, I would appreciate it.” 

She chuckled, hard eyes at complete odds with the musical sound. “You are quick Dorian.” 

“I’ve always thought so.” 

“Clever, but not quite clever enough to figure out your elf is alive, are you?” 

That left him speechless. Seeing it she smiled, once more completely at odd with her eyes, and sat on the edge of the bed. She popped a grape into her mouth, acting for all the world like she was at tea with an old friend. 

“Now that I have your attention..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay more flashbacks! And people getting hit in the head. That's how you plot right? (Y'all are awesome for reading this.)


	5. Put Your Hands in the Flame

Mahanon should have known taking Cole hunting was a mistake. He was quiet enough in his movements, and could track when he focused. He even liked making snares, fingers clever with the knots. It was stalking game where they had a problem. Mahanon lifted his bow, letting Cole watch as he lined up the shot. Just as he was about to loose the arrow Cole spoke. 

“Why are you so angry with Sulahn? You look at him and you hurt. You said you would explain.” 

He sighed as he watched their supper run off. He turned to Cole, who looked somewhat contrite. 

“I did it again. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s alright Cole. Let’s head back and I’ll do my best to explain instead.” 

“Okay.” 

Mahanon put the bow away. It wasn’t his favorite weapon anyways, and he used it sparingly. As they walked he tried to come up with an explanation, the memories painful. Truth was, he didn’t want to dive back into them. Couldn’t even remember how it had started. He did know that there had hardly been a time before the Conclave when he and Sulahn hadn’t been together in one way or another. Mahanon had loved him most of his life. He still remembered the day Sulahn had come crying to him in the forest because he was going to be the First, and he couldn’t spend his days with Mahanon anymore. He had told Sulahn that he was special, that everything was going to be alright in the end. He had never been so laughably wrong in his life. 

“Sulahn’s father and my father were friends. They hunted together.” 

“You never met him.” 

Mahanon nodded. “Both of them were killed by humans. It was an accident, a mistake. Sulahn’s father overreacted, struck first, and both sides paid the price for it.” 

“'Mamae you told me it was an accident...Mamae don't cry.’” 

_He does have a knack for finding the worst possible memories._ His mother had told him the truth just weeks after he’d gotten his vallaslin. When she'd first fallen ill . He swallowed. 

“Sulahn didn’t take it well when he found out the truth. He grew angry. Between that and studying our history…he changed. Grew bitter. He wanted revenge. I tried to help, tried to stop him, but he didn’t want to listen.” 

"You weren’t angry with the humans?” 

Mahanon smiled, though it was tight. “I was. But it didn’t help. You can’t change the past by clinging to it.” 

“Sulahn is the reason your nose is crooked.” 

“Aye.” He snorted. “He broke it. He…I tried to stop him from killing a man. He knocked me out. By the time I came to it was too late.” 

“You told your clan you killed him. You lied. Why?” 

Mahanon ran his hand over the shaved back of his head. “Sulahn made a mistake. But the clan needed him, still needs him. More than they ever needed me. It worked out, didn’t it?” 

“But you lied.” 

He opened his mouth to try and justify _that_ , only to snap it shut when a stay horse ran past them wildly. Not one of theirs. 

“Were those _burn_ marks on the saddle?” 

“Cassandra is hurt.” 

They broke into a run then. The camp was a wreck. The horses were gone with their saddlebags, and rations. More importantly Sulahn was nowhere to be seen, and Cassandra was sitting with her hand clasped to her bleeding head. She saw Mahanon and sighed. 

“They took Sulahn. Slavers. They have en ex-templar with them.” 

Mahanon dropped to his knees before her, forcing her to move her hand from her forehead. “Is this the worst of it?” 

“Other than my wounded pride? Yes.” 

He reached over and grabbed his sleeping skin, slicing through it with his dagger. They had nothing cleaner for the moment. He crumpled it and went to press it to her still bleeding head. Cassandra gave him a pointed look before slapping his hand away and doing it herself. 

“I will not be coddled Inquisitor.” 

“Blood makes me squeamish Cassandra, you know that. Not like I’m concerned about you or anything.” 

Cole shook his head. “But you are concerned about her.” 

“It’s a joke Da’len. So, just to make sure I have everything straight, we have no horses, no food, and we’ve been targeted by the exact kind of people we were trying to avoid.” 

“Yes.” Cassandra removed the makeshift bandage to check the blood before pressing it back to her head. “Not to mention this is entirely your fault.” 

Mahanon tapped his chin. “Would saying sorry help?” 

“No.” 

He nodded, expecting as much. “Guess you’re just going to have to settle for a little vengeance then.” 

Cassandra made that disgusted noise he loved so much. “What did you have in mind?” 

“I’ll let you know once I do. Come on Most Holy, up you go.” 

He helped her to her feet. They had to move fast if they were going to save Sulahn. 

~~

“Now that I have your attention, Lady Aislinn Artford, if you were looking for a name darling.” 

Dorian found his tongue again quickly. “Aislinn Artford? Your parents didn’t like you very much, did they?” 

“Cute.” She got to her feet, drawing a knife. 

He raised his eyebrows as she cut his bonds. He had to bite back a groan as the blood flowed back into his hands. He got the distinct impression even the slightest weakness on his part would mark him as easy prey. Not that he was putting on a great show to begin with. Dorian tried calling on his magic again and felt…nothing. Like his connection to the Fade had been cut entirely. Aislinn was watching him with a cruel smirk. He feared, for a moment, he’d been made Tranquil. But then he remembered Mahanon was alive and the rush of emotion reminded him he couldn’t be Tranquil. 

“Do join me Dorian.” 

He sat down the bed, reaching for the cheese. “Lady Artford…Your father is in the Magisterium, yes? Funny, I didn’t know he had another daughter.” 

He smiled warmly and she laughed that false laugh he’d come to despise so much amongst the nobility. The laugh that said “I would cut you down right here and now if I thought I could get away with it.” The same laugh that told him he was in no immediate danger. 

“Tell me Dorian, what did your father say when he found out his only son had fallen in love with an elven man intent on heresy?” 

“I imagine it was fairly similar to what your father said when he found out you had no magical talent whatsoever. Why am I here?” 

Aislinn’s green eyes glittered. She should have been attractive, were it not for the spite emanating from her in waves. 

“The knife-ear is coming for you. Which means I need you to stay as my guest until he gets here.” 

_Vishante kaffas_. “And what, pray tell, do you want with him?” 

“That, is between me and him. Now eat up Master Pavus. You have a letter to write. We don’t want your father to worry, and I don’t want to have to cut off your hands for insolent behavior.” 

She rose primly and walked out. Dorian, reasonably as he saw it, had never been very fond of vipers. Aislinn Artford did nothing to improve his views on them. He grabbed the plate of food and threw at the wall, liking the way it shattered. The bits of fruit running down the wall improved the look of the place immeasurably. _I’m going to kill Mahanon. Then bring him back, kiss him, and kill him again._

~~

_Mahanon threw the bit of embrium in, only to be met with a whistling noise he was becoming far too accustomed to. He ducked under the desk just as the explosion went off. The room became clouded with smoke and he found himself hacking._

_“Fenedhis! Vishante kaffas fasta vass.”_  

_“I hear my talent for colorful language is rubbing of on you amatus.”_

_Mahanon coughed.“Stay...outside. This stuff may or may not be toxic when inhaled.”_

_He heard Dorian recite an incantation and the room cleared. He climbed out from under the desk, only to be met with Dorian guffawing as he saw his face. He frowned, not sure what was making the taller man laugh like a bloody hyena. The mage grabbed his looking glass and held it up. Mahanon grabbed it, seeing he’d managed to blow his eyebrows off. Dorian kept chuckling; he was clearly losing it._

_“You can stop cackling now Pavus.”_

_Dorian straightened, wiping tears from his eyes. “Maker Mahanon, you are glorious.”_

_“Can you grow them back or are you just going to stand there all day?”_

_“I’ll grow them back. Right after I march you down to the tavern and show you off.”_

_Mahanon growled. “I will shave yours off in the middle of the night. The mustache too.”_

_“You are such a killjoy.” Dorian waved his hand with a smile. “Better?”_

_A curious tingling sensation marked where his eyebrows used to be. His skin crawled for another second before stopping. Mahanon held up the glass, eyes barely glancing at where Dorian and grown the hair back perfectly. Right down to the small bare stripe that never grew back quite right after he'd received his vallaslin. He was already going back over where he’d went wrong in the potion._

_“Something the matter?” Dorian tilted his head._

_Mahanon shook his head. “I just think I used too much black lotus. If I just…”_

_“Oh no you don’t.” Dorian grabbed the glass from him, setting it to the side. “I have been waiting for your_ attention _all day. You’re taking a break before you blow something off I can’t grow back.”_

_“But I have to-”_

_Dorian stopped his protest in it’s tracks by kissing him. Mahanon fought for but a moment before giving in. The mage pressed him back against the desk, both of them reaching the same conclusion as Dorian glanced intently on the glass and papers scattered over it. Mahanon decided to redirect that thought before it came to fruition._

_“Don’t even think about it emma vhenan.”_

_He pushed the mage back towards the bed while the man chuckled. He knew he was going to lose the battle over the desk one of these days, but it was not going to be today._

Mahanon didn’t trust glass bottles and saddlebags, with good reason considering how unstable some of the solutions he carried were. A couple of lockpicks, a dagger, and an empty bottle were always on his person. It had driven his mother crazy, then Sulahn, then Dorian. But time and again his more paranoid tendencies had saved his life. Now, he hoped they would save Sulahn’s. The evening after the man had been taken, Mahanon peered down at the slaver’s camp. He counted no more than fifteen, something he was grateful for. What made him clench his jaw in anger were the elves, both Dalish and unmarked, in cages around the camp. It was as he thought, these men traded exclusively in elvehn. In a twisted way he was thankful. They had had left Cassandra behind because she was both human, and he expected, more trouble than she was worth. He exhaled slowly, counting once more, before backing up slowly. 

Cassandra and Cole waited expectantly, Cole muttering as he heard the pain of the elves. He drew the precious bottle of green liquid. His gift to the slavers. 

“Cole, you okay to get started?” 

The spirit’s eyes focused slowly, and he nodded. “Yes.” 

“Good.” He looked at Cassandra. “Don’t make a move until my signal.” 

“Are you certain about this?” 

“As certain as I ever am.” He grinned. “Don’t lose faith in me now Most Holy.” 

She grunted and drew her sword. “Go before I throw you down there.” 

“Yes ma’am.” 

He slid down the rocks, just at the ring of firelight. Slipping past the guards on watch was a joke. He strode through the camp, head held high. It got the reaction he was hoping for. The men just stared as he walked past. He doubted an elf had ever gone within thirty yards of them willingly. He paused when he was in the center, several of the men starting to react to his presence. 

“Hands up rabbit!” 

Mahanon put his hands up. “Relax. I’m just here to have a friendly chat with your leader. No need for violence.” 

One of the men stepped forward, pressing the tip of his sword to Mahanon’s neck. “You’re a bloody idiot.” 

“So they keep telling me.” 

“Da’fen what are you doing?” 

Sulahn. Mahanon found him in a cage, hands bound so tightly his fingers were turning purple. Before he could try to reassure the man a rather large guy stepped out of his tent, rather large sword swung over his shoulder. 

“You asked for me knife-ear?” 

“Well that’s just rude.” Mahanon tilted his head. “Tell me do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” 

The big guy was a bit shrewder than his men. “Who are you?” 

“Oh me? I’m nobody. Just wanted to get a good look at the bastard who stole my friend and knocked out the Divine. Now that I see he’s just a brute overcompensating with a big stick, I feel a little bit better about this next bit.” 

Mahanon smacked the guard’s sword away, smashed the bottle on the ground, and drew his daggers. In the confusion he ran towards Sulahn’s cage first, smashing the lock. He could just make out the mage’s stunned look as Mahanon sliced through his bonds. 

“Sulahn now would be an excellent time to show off your talents.” 

Just then a meaty arm wrapped around his neck, choking him. “You made a mistake boy.” 

As spots started flickering across his vision, Mahanon thought that maybe, just this once, the slaver might be right. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact I actually wrote this bit with Dorian when Mahanon's eyebrows wouldn't load in the Western Approach after he would use his tempest powers. Also if you want to see a picture of Mahanon, Sulahn, and the glitch here is my blog with crappy pictures of each. http://noplaceforthehero.tumblr.com/ Mahanon got kind of white-washed since Xbox 360 and I had to use my phone.


	6. Mostly Dead Is Still Alive

_Sulahn held the knife to the man’s throat, hand shaking with rage and fear. The poor bastard stared at him with wide eyes, trying to talk through his gag. Sulahn inched his hand forward only to hear Mahanon's voice._

_“Stop!”_

_He turned, not lowering the blade. “Why did you follow me?”_

_“Sulahn…don’t do this. This is not the way.”_

_“How would you know? You make friends with the shem, drink with them, smile at their jokes. You might as well_ be _one!”_

_Mahanon flinched, inching forward. “Emma enansal…please. Once you do this there is no going back.”_

_He rose shakily, staff in hand. The rain slicked Mahanon’s hair to his head, his eyes the only color in the forest. Sulahn felt something twist sharply in his chest. Guilt, hate, love. All tangled together into something he didn’t recognize anymore. It was all just pain. He lowered the knife, going to Mahanon. If only it was so easy. The other man embraced him, body warm despite the icy water drenching his clothes._

_“Sulahn. Ma’ arlath Sulahn.”_

“Su…lahn” 

He blinked, realizing he was frozen. Mahanon was being strangled and he was stuck, fear choking him. Always the fucking fear. Mahanon’s daggers dropped from limp fingers and Sulahn suddenly realized what the man meant about using his talents. He grabbed one of the wicked-looking blades and sliced through the arm around Mahanon’s neck. He fell as the brute screamed, coughing even as he grabbed the other blade and whirled. Mahanon sliced through the man’s thigh, just missing the artery. 

“Now Sulahn!” 

_Right_. The templar couldn’t smite him while he was so distracted. Sulahn took the opportunity to light his hair on fire, seeing Mahanon’s mouth twitch as the man screamed. His old lover took his dagger back and pointed. 

“Start freeing the others! We’ve go this!” 

Sulahn saw Cassandra fighting her way towards them. Now that the smoke was clearing, he could see the camp was complete chaos, some of the elves that had been in the cage with him having stayed to fight rather than run. He bared his teeth and raised his hands as he joined them. 

~~

Dorian weighed his options and found them wanting. For one thing, he had no intention of staying in the Lady Artford’s company. He had a feeling he knew exactly what she wanted from Mahanon. A highly valued prisoner, or slave, she could use to seek favor with the magisterium. She had no magic, and at a guess, her father didn’t give her much money. She would never marry anyone of her rank. Attractive or not, it didn’t matter. It was one of the many sob stories he had come home to prevent, for all the good it did him. 

He stared at the blank page before him. He could refuse, have his hands cut off, and maybe his father would notice he was missing in time to get him out before Mahanon got to the Imperium. Aislinn was not wrong in assuming the blasted fool would come for him at least. Or he could take a different sort of gamble, and hope he wasn’t found out. He went ahead and wrote a plausible letter. _Everything is great Father. I wasn’t kidnapped by an insane woman intent on destroying my life._ He signed it, looked over his shoulder at the locked door, and reached for his shoe. 

Mahanon’s paranoid tendencies had rubbed off on him, much as he would tease the elf when he would go to kiss him and nearly lose a finger to a hidden dagger. He’d taken to keeping a small amount of lyrium, enough to make a mouthful of potion, in his shoe. It was foolish, since even that much could prove lethal to himself or any other mage. Careful not to touch it he mixed it with his water and wrote a hasty sentence on the back of the letter. It dried clear and just in time for the door to open and his handler to come back in. 

Dorian forced a smile and a joke, not caring what came out of his mouth. He exhaled slowly when the man left. Now, he had to wait and hope. _Might be time to start praying again Dorian._  

~~

_Fly straight and do not waver._ Mahanon bore down on the templar as the sounds of battle escalated around them. The brute swung and Mahanon went to his knees, sliding under the blade. _Bend but do not break._ He was too close, the man could clobber him on the head. There was nowhere to run. They both knew it too. The templar opened his mouth, looking triumphant and confident. At least, until Mahanon grinned back. A sword protruded through the man’s sternum, a hot spray of blood hitting Mahanon. Cassandra yanked out her sword with a cry, the most beautiful thing in the word as far as he was concerned. _Together we are stronger than one._ The templar fell, the life leaving his face before he fell. Mahanon took half a moment to appreciate that before looking up to see more men coming their way, one trying to get the jump on Cassandra. 

“Duck!” 

She did without hesitating. They had danced this dance many times before, and with far more worthy opponents. He grabbed a throwing knife from his belt and threw it before correcting so he and Cassandra were back to back. His man fell as they raised their weapons. Eight of the men had banded together, realizing the unarmed elves were not their main concern. Particularly when magical fire started raining down on the field. Mahanon spared a glance to see Cole freeing the rest of the elves, and Sulahn planting himself between the slavers and the elves making their escape into the hills. 

His attention was called back not by any attack, but by a guttural cry as the slavers were hit from behind. As always, he saw the horns first. Mahanon and Cassandra exchanged a glance before diving in. A massive broadsword almost the size of Mahanon was making quick work of their opponents, the equally impressive Qunari in the center laughing as he decapitated a man. It was over quickly. Mahanon wiped his brow, seeing Krem yank his knife from the eye of the fallen. He handed it to Mahanon, inclining his head. 

“Inquisitor.” 

Mahanon took the knife and then clasped the lieutenant’s hand. “You’re a sight for sore eyes Krem.” 

“Now don’t go stroking his ego.” He felt a giant hand clap his shoulder, almost knocking him off-balance. “You look pretty good for dead Boss.” 

“I was only mostly dead.” Mahanon was grinning from ear to ear, and he didn’t bother to hide it.

Cassandra was sheathing her sword, trying to hide her own smile. “ _What_ are you doing here?” 

Bull bent to whisper in Mahanon’s ear. “You see that? She missed me.” 

“I am just…surprised is all.” 

“Pleasantly surprised?” Bull laughed at the pained expression on Cassandra’s face and gestured to Krem. “You know the drill. Not a bastard left alive. Oh and see that the elves don’t bolt on us.” 

Krem rolled his eyes and gave a little bow. “Of course.” 

Bull turned his gaze on Mahanon, raising an eyebrow. “So.” 

“So.” 

“Did you get hit too hard on the head or is Dorian’s ass really that good?” 

Mahanon cleared his throat, feeling the heat rise to his cheeks. “Right let’s get food to the prisoners shall we? Then we can talk.” 

“Whatever you say Boss.” 

Cole chose that moment to reappear. “Hello The Iron Bull.” 

“Hello Cole.” 

He turned his unsettling eyes on Mahanon. “Inquisitor. Sulahn ran away. He’s not planning on coming back.” 

Mahanon sighed. “Do you know why?” 

“Guilt. He says it’s his fault. It’s all his fault. It hurts when he looks at you.” 

“Right.” Mahanon looked over the horizon, feeling the lack of sleep and the exertion in his bones. “I’ll go talk with him. Help the Chargers Cole. Cassandra let Stitches take a look at your head.” 

She grunted her consent, clapping his shoulder briefly as the group made their way to the elves. Mahanon sighed and looked into the night. He and Sulahn needed to work it out anyways. Mahanon followed him into the dark.

~~

_“There you are.”_

_Sulahn barely glanced up at Mahanon, content to just stare at the clouds. The larger boy flopped down beside him, chewing on a stalk of grass. He linked their hands together, using his other arm to pillow his head. Sulahn had missed him. He’d been gone for days, scouting with his uncle. He supposed he shouldn’t be surprised Mahanon had tracked him down now, even though he’d been avoiding the clan the last couple of days. It took a moment before Sulahn shifted to rest his head on Mahanon’s warm chest. He could hear his heartbeat, sure and strong._

_“Da’fen. You’re back.”_

_Mahanon laughed. “Emma enansal. Good of you to notice. Mamae told me to fetch you. She said you’ve been in one of your moods again. Brooding.”_

_“I don’t brood.”_

_The boy’s warm chuckle surged through him, matching the breeze tugging at their hair. “You are the king of brooding. What is it this time?”_

_“Nothing.”_

_“If you say so.”_

_Sulahn rolled his eyes. “If you must know…I missed you.”_

_“Well if you must know…” Mahanon mimicked his voice perfectly. “I missed you too. Now, is it just me or does that cloud look like one of those cow things the shemlen love so much?”_

_He relaxed, turning his to follow Mahanon’s finger. “Are you going blind on me? That’s a bunny.”_

_“Clearly you are…oh. That is a bunny.”_

_Sulahn chuckled, flipping onto his back so that his head was pillowed on Mahanon’s stomach. They idled the afternoon away just like that, and Sulahn found it was easy to smile._

“There you are.” Sulahn didn’t turn, couldn’t. 

Mahanon stood behind the boulder Sulahn had sat down on. He was so tired. Mahanon didn’t join him, just pointed up at the stars. 

“That one’s Judex, the Sword of Mercy. Now, it _may_ just look like a bunch of random dots to the untrained eye but no, I’m told it’s really a sword.” 

Sulahn snapped at him. “Why did you follow me? Go back.” 

“Well see I had this crazy notion that a lone elf wandering around on the border of the Imperium was a bad idea.” 

“I don’t need you to be my fucking hero Mahanon. Who asked you to save me?” 

The other elf rolled his eyes. “No one. You’ve made it very clear you want nothing to do with me or my heroic antics.” 

“That’s right. So go back.” 

“Ah see just because you don’t want me to save you doesn’t mean you don’t need my help. Since you’ve obviously lost all of your senses I thought I’d help you find them.” 

Sulahn got to his feet, shaking. “Don’t you see it? Don’t you know what I’ve done? Just _leave_!” 

“What are you on about?” Mahanon tilted his head. “Why are you so afraid?” 

“I never…I never meant for this to happen. You have to know that.”

Mahanon lifted his lip, baring his teeth. “Never meant for what to happen Sulahn?” 

His voice had turned low and deadly. _Dread Wolf take me._ Sulahn took a step back, terrified. But he was done running from Mahanon. 

“They told me they could help us elevate more elves. Without the bloodshed this time. Get more of our own in leadership positions. The Free Marches are ready, they just need a push…” Sulahn took a steadying breath, but it didn’t help. “You were never in any real danger. Not from me. I had the antidote. It was never going to kill you.” 

Mahanon stared at him, eyes glinting in the moonlight. “It was…You planted the amulet. You were helping them!”

He looked…betrayed. Sulahn flinched. Mahanon was far from through from him. 

“You put Dorian in danger…my friends, the clan…You risked it all for some half-baked promise?” 

“They said-”

Mahanon growled. “They were lying! Do you have any idea what you’ve done? Do you even care?” 

Each word inflicted a new wound, cutting him open. Mahanon shook his head, teeth flashing. 

“Do they have Dorian?” 

Sulahn grit his teeth, the name still an affront after all this time. “Yes.” 

“And they want what? Me? That’s it?” 

Sulahn nodded again, not trusting himself to speak. Mahanon let out a choked, humorless laugh and then drew his dagger. Before he could even blink, Sulahn was trapped. One hand in his tunic, the other pressing the dagger to his throat. Mahanon’s eyes were cold. 

“If I ever see you again, I will kill you.” 

Sulahn could only bob his head, tears stinging at his eyes. It was better than what he deserved, and yet he still hated Mahanon for it. Hated him, and yet yearned for his love. Mahanon grabbed a knife from his belt and threw it and Sulahn’s feet. The blade landed with a thud, buried down into the dirt. Mahanon turned his back on Sulahn and walked back towards his friends. 

He’d finally done it. Sulahn had lost Mahanon for good. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another fun fact, the constellation Mahanon points out was a symbol of guilt and imminent execution in the Imperium before it became the symbol of the Templars. More Dorian next chapter I promise.


	7. Set the Fire to the Third Bar

Mahanon made Bull spar with him the morning after he’d run Sulahn off. He had told Cassandra and Bull everything. They were supposed to be talking about their next course of action, now that Sulahn had shown his true colors and they knew for certain Dorian had been captured. All Mahanon really wanted, if he couldn’t have Dorian, was to hit things. Which of course, was when Bull decided he needed to talk about his feelings. 

“Boss…” 

“Not now Bull.” 

Bull grunted and Mahanon tried to flank him. He was immediately knocked on his ass. 

“What about now?” 

Mahanon snarled and jumped to his feet. “Why is it that when you’re upset you’re allowed to get away with getting bludgeoned with a big stick but when it’s me we have to  _talk_.” 

“Because if Dorian was here you would be talking. But since you’re stuck with me-”

“No. I am done talking.” 

Bull nodded. “Have it your way then.” 

Mahanon was just about to respond when Bull charged him, screaming. The man tackled him into the dirt, banging his wrists until the daggers dropped. Mahanon growled and tried to kick his chest, tried to roll, and even flirted with head-butting the brute. He heard someone, probably Krem, laughed as he tried to get out from under the qunari. 

“Fenedhis get off of me.” 

“Are you ready to talk?” 

Mahanon clenched his jaw. “About what?” 

“Perhaps about getting you across the border. Unless you’ve given up on rescuing Dorian and would rather sulk in a corner like a child.” 

He sighed, letting his head fall back in the dirt. Bull kept a firm grasp on his wrists, but he sat up a bit. 

“You have a plan?” 

“Better. I have a ‘friend.’” 

Mahanon tongued his cheek, thinking. “Alright. Let’s talk about this friend.” 

“Good man.” Bull got to his feet and held out his hand. “You know if you ever get tired o-“ 

“No.” 

Bull laughed and clapped him on the back. They walked back to camp, Cole watching their progress. Mahanon looked north, chewing his lip.  _Soon Dorian. I promise._  

~~

_Dorian really didn’t intend to eavesdrop. It just happened that way. He only wanted to have a moment with Mahanon, perhaps throttle him for drinking from the Well of Sorrows. But he found himself pausing at Cassandra’s voice._

_“It is not my place to ask, but why did you drink from the Well?”_

_Mahanon snorted. “The voices in my head were getting lonely. I thought they needed new friends.”_

_Dorian rolled his eyes. The elf was spending far too much time with him._

_“Mahanon.”_

_He sighed. “Take whatever reason you want Cass. I don’t trust women with panther eyes, I was afraid the price would be her son, I’m an elf and while I may not be the most devout man in Thedas it is my heritage, it’s my duty to take these risks and no one else’s. My hand hurts.”_

_“Your…hand?”_

_“It’s…been getting worse. Since Adamant actually. Solas isn’t really sure why except that, shockingly, it probably has to do with Corypheus.”_

_Cassandra was quiet. “I didn’t know.”_

_“Neither did I.”_

_The words slipped out angrily. Dorian strode into the firelight. Mahanon rubbed the back of his head, sheepish._

_“Cassandra…”_

_“I’m going. Try not to wake everyone up.”_

_Dorian waited until she was gone before dropping to his knees and grabbing Mahanon’s marked hand. Mahanon tried to hide a wince. Not from the hand, but from his head._

_“Have I ever told you you are a frustrating, stubborn, horrible specimen of a man and I hate you?”_

_“Once or twice.”_

_Dorian was still angry. But he didn’t miss the circles under Mahanon’s eyes, the way the vallaslin  stretched just a hint too tightly over his brow, the cheekbones that were too sharp. When they did happen to sleep at the same time the elf was plagued with bad dreams. He sighed, pressing his index fingers to Mahanon’s temples. The incantation was quick, and the elf relaxed visibly, slumping forward a little with relief. Dorian pressed his forehead to Mahanon’s, exasperated._

_“Ma serranas emma vhenan. They’re quieter when you’re around.”_

_Dorian shook his head. “Just once I wish you would be a selfish bastard. Take a cue or two from me.”_

_“I’m trying but I still can’t convince you to stay.”_

_He flinched internally, sitting back. Mahanon sighed._

_“Abelas. That was cruel of me.”_

_Dorian had a quick debate with himself. He could make a quip, start another argument and go to sleep angry with himself and this blight-touched elf with a hero complex._ Or… _He reached out and took Mahanon’s hand again, tracing the edges of the mark._

_“Why didn’t you say anything?”_

_“You already worry enough. Because of me.”_

_Dorian looked up, seeing the guilt plain as day on his face. “Saw through me again did you?”_

_“If the silk small clothes fit…”  Mahanon bowed his head. “For what it’s worth I’m not intentionally trying to break us.”_

_“Hush amatus you haven’t broken anything. We’ll triumph over Corypheus, get roaring drunk, and then figure it out from there.”_

_Mahanon chuckled, something close to his usual laugh. Dorian counted it as a win. Mahanon patted the grass next to him._

_“You never did finish telling me all the reasons I’m never allowed to take you to the Fallow Mire again.”_

_Dorian smiled and sat next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “How about I tell you about the time my mother caught me sneaking toads into her larder instead?”_

_“Oh thank the Creators…I mean yes. Do go on love.”_

_“Well there I was, a dashing and charming young rapscallion of nine.”_

_Mahanon leaned against his chest, solid and warm. “Of course.”_

_“And what do you know…But honestly Mahanon the Fallow Mire is just_ so _dreary.”_

_He got a sharp elbow in his chest for that one and held Mahanon that much tighter. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d have the opportunity._

Mythal’s voices had gone silent when her dragon had died. Mahanon had told him briefly, and hadn’t brought it up again. Dorian was musing over it as he stared out of the window of his gilded cage. The property was on a beach, the sun blindingly bouncing off the water. The window was sealed shut, magical barriers he could probe but couldn’t do anything to break. His magic was just…gone. It was a lot like staring out of the window. He could almost see the power denied to him, but there was a barrier he couldn’t cross no matter how many times he tried. 

The door behind him slammed open and Dorian let the curtain drop. He turned to find Aislinn and two guards, and raised his eyebrows. 

“Something the matter my dear? Other than you resorting to kidnapping I mean.” 

She gave him a measured look, sizing him up. “You know Dorian, Wycome and Kirkwall appear to be in an uproar. Rumor has it that the Inquisitor is, in fact, alive, and being held in Minrathous against his will.” 

“Oh?” 

She walked around the room, picking objects up and setting them down. “Another rumor says that House Pavus is searching for their missing lord. At that the Inquisition has taken a personal interest in his disappearance.” 

“Well it seems you’re not half as clever as you think you are.” 

Internally, he was relieved. His father had found the message after all. Maybe, if he’s luck hadn’t run out, someone would knock some sense into Mahanon before he single-handedly started a war with the Imperium or got himself enslaved. 

“I believe we’ve been too…lenient with you Dorian.” 

He laughed as the guards came for him, one hitting him in the gut. It was alright, they could have him. As long as Mahanon was going to come through this, they could do whatever they wanted with him.

~~

Mahanon gaped at Bull. “You want me to what?” 

“You heard me.” 

“I did hear you. I’m just having trouble with the part where you want me to wear chains and a collar.” 

Bull’s contact groaned, a fat Dalish, older and ruddy-faced. Nehn, who kept his nose buried in his cups and whose laugh was starting to set Mahanon’s teeth on edge. 

“Look your Inquisitorness I can bring you straight into Minrathous if you want. But we can’t get you there unless you play pretend.” 

He clenched his jaw. The very idea of it rankled him. But he had to get to Dorian. 

“Fine.” 

“What?” Cassandra shook her head. “Surely you must be joking.” 

“Well I don’t know is anybody laughing?” 

She snorted. “I never know with you.” 

The noise outside of their table escalated. The Chargers who weren’t escorting elves back to Inquisition holding had started singing. Mahanon looked around, feeling taut as a bowstring, needing to fire. Or get out of the crowd. He realized Bull was staring at Nehn. The elf didn’t seem to notice, taking another drag of wine. That was when Cole appeared at his elbow, whispering in his ear. 

“He knows Sulahn. He sees him in his mind. The pretty one with the dark eyes. ‘I wonder what he tastes like.’” 

Bull met Mahanon’s eyes, and he nodded. The giant’s hand wrapped around Nehn’s wrist, the Qunari leaning forward and whispering in Nehn’s ear. Mahanon got to his feet as Bull leaned away, jerking head to Cassandra. 

“Come on. We can discuss it in my room. Nehn. Cole you too.” 

The elf nodded in acknowledgement, clearly having lost interest in light of whatever Bull was saying. They did go to Mahanon’s room, where Cassandra immediately started listing all of the reasons he was an idiot. Not that he disagreed with her. It didn’t change anything but she wasn’t wrong. Still, Mahanon pulled out his daggers, checking the edges. He ignored Cassandra’s diatribe, turning to Cole. 

“Go ask Bull if he’s ready.” 

Cole was gone in a flash and Cassandra glared at him. “Are you even listening to me?” 

“Not really. Nehn knows Sulahn Cassandra. Which means…” 

“I see.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s never simple with you, is it?” 

He chuckled, going to the door. “It’s never boring either. Coming?” 

She fell into step behind him and they made their way to Bull’s room. Cole was waiting outside. 

“The Iron Bull tied him to the chair. He  _liked_  it.” 

Mahanon really had nothing to say to that. He opened the door to find Nehn was, in fact, tied to a chair. Bull was sitting on the bed, looking pleased with himself. Mahanon wondered for the umpteenth time if all Ben-Hassarath were so  _crafty_ , or if it was just Bull being the Iron Bull. He had a feeling it was the latter. Without pretense he pressed his dagger to Nehn’s throat. The man’s eyes widened as Mahanon grinned. 

“So. Nehn. How do you know Sulahn?” 

Nehn glared at Bull. “You set me up!” 

“I sure did. Now answer the question.” 

“Vishante kaffas.” Nehn frowned at Mahanon. “What did you do to him?” 

“Now that should not be your main concern right now. If you’re so worried just know he got what he deserved.” 

Nehn’s eyes hardened. “I won’t tell you a damned thing len’las lath’din.” 

“My wounded pride.”

Mahanon moved his dagger to Nehn’s finger. He let the threat hang in the air. Cole made a disquieted noise behind him. When Mahanon turned he saw Cassandra had her hand on the boy’s chest, her own brow furrowed in concern.

“If you two can’t handle this then get out.” He spat. 

Mahanon tore his eyes from the look on their faces. The door closed a moment later. He pressed the blade a little deeper. Nehn tried to struggled away, thrashing his head. 

“I won’t tell you.” 

“That is a shame. Ar tu na'lin emma mi.” 

He drew blood this time, and Nehn whimpered. He was soft. Mahanon kept his eyes on the blade, watching the red trickle down over pale skin. He thought of Dorian and Sulahn, feeling the guilt in his chest smothered by hate. 

“Fenedhis ma halam stop!” 

Mahanon barely heard him. Nehn’s were cast down, head craned as he watched Mahanon’s blade on his finger. 

“I’ll tell you everything. Just stop.” 

Mahanon straightened, feeling his hand start to shake. For the first time in months, his marked hand spasmed in pain. He curled his fingers around it, feeling Bull’s eyes on him. Nehn kept babbling, everything coming out at once. 

“I’m part of an organization in Tevinter called the Viran Revas.” 

That, was not what Mahanon had been expecting. “The Path to Freedom?” 

Nehn nodded. “We free elves. We maintain a series of safe houses to get them out of the Imperium.” 

“You…You were telling Sulahn the truth. You don't work with the Followers, do you?” Nehn shook his head vigorously. "We knew they were going to attack. We gave Sulahn the antidote, and the amulet in case you needed more motivation to come to the border." 

Mahanon turned to Bull, who looked as surprised as he was. “He’s not lying to you. I’ve heard of these guys.” 

“And the Followers of She are?” 

“A misguided cult who think if they have you and your mark all of their dreams will come true. At least, that’s what their leader tells them.” 

Mahanon sheathed his dagger, joining Bull on the bed. He was very, very tired. 

“Where do the Viran Revas fit into all of this?” 

“My only goal was to get you to the border. Speak with our leaders. After that I don't know what they wanted with you." 

"And Dorian?" 

Nehn frowned. "That the Vint you're uh..." 

"Yes." 

The fat man shrugged. "We just stole the amulet. We didn't nab him." 

Mahanon pinched the bridge of his nose. "You realize I'm an elf? And the Inquisitor? And that I have a vested interest in ending slavery? Why not come to me?" 

"Come to a man who abandoned his people for Tevinter Magister? I mean I don't believe that but there are those who do. We didn't know if we could trust you." 

He growled. "You picked a damned fine way to engender trust." 

Nehn shrugged again. Mahanon shook his head, glancing at Bull. 

"What do you want me to do with him Boss?" 

"Nothing." He looked to Nehn. "Can your people get me across the border? Without letting the Magisterium know I'm in the Imperium? Your life hinges on the truth of your answer, so think on it closely." 

Nehn didn't hesitate. "Yes." 

At Bull's nod Mahanon rubbed the back of his neck. "Then that's what we do. Tomorrow. Get me in and I'll arrange it so your people can start working with the Inquisition." 

"Tomorrow." Nehn grinned wickedly. "I like you Inquisitor." 

Mahanon grunted and got up to leave. "He's all yours Bull." 

He all but slammed the door on the way out. He fell into his bed, staring at the ceiling. He pulled out Dorian's amulet, stroking it's grooves and edges until he managed to drift off into a fitful sleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my favorite chapter and kind of a filler but wanted to get this up today to stay on my schedule. I will give you guys a chapter I've been looking forward to since the beginning tomorrow.


	8. As I Walk This Land of Broken Dreams

_“Why him?”_

_The question slipped out. Cassandra hadn’t meant to ask like this. Hadn’t meant to ask at all. But she was starting to consider the Inquisitor a friend, and the question had been bothering her for some time. A Tevinter mage of all things. Mahanon had been opening his mouth to spoon porridge in. While unsubtly watching Dorian and Solas compare staff techniques across the campsite. He took the bite slowly, seeming to consider her question. His eyes flicked to Dorian again, and she wondered if he even realized how often he stared at the man._

_“The mustache, of course. I’m an elf. I have facial hair envy.”_

_She should have known better. Cassandra grunted and returned her attention to her own breakfast. Mahanon chuckled._

_“Abelas. I can’t help myself sometimes. Is it really so hard to see why?”_

_Cassandra snorted. “He’s an elitist from a land that enslaves your people.”_

_“Here I thought he was a man who risked his life to save my own simply because he thought it was the right thing to do.” Mahanon’s glance was pointed. “The world is grey Cassandra. I thought you of all people would know that.”_

_She was rather speechless. Mahanon sighed and brushed her shoulder with his fingers._

_“You say you believe in me. That you trust me. So trust me when I say there’s far more to him than meets the eye. He belongs here.”_

_With that he rose to his feet, striding over to the two mages with a smile. She watched Dorian return it, laughing at whatever Mahanon said in greeting. Cassandra got to her own feet, eyes on the two men. She decided to maintain her careful vigil of Dorian, but Mahanon had a point. The world would not be simplified, and neither would the Tevinter mage who’d won the trust of a Dalish elf._

Cassandra woke to a note on her pillow and the distinct feeling the world was wrong. She picked the note up, reading it through twice before cursing and getting out of bed. Bull was in the common room with Cole, the Qunari looking as close to contrite as he ever got. She spat at him. 

“We have to go after him.” 

Bull sighed. “No. We don’t. He made his decision.” 

“He could be killed!” 

“Then we’ll throw him a good funeral. Invite half of Thedas and get them drunk. He’s laid it all out.” 

Cole was remarkably silent, something Cassandra found even more disconcerting. Bull fidgeted with his mug as she sat down. 

“The Inquisition needs him. He can’t put himself at risk like this.” 

“He can. And he will do far worse if anything happens to Dorian. You know that.” 

Cassandra clenched her jaw. He was right. She still had trouble believing it at times, but they had all seen it. Mahanon was Dorian’s through and through. That’s why she was here after all. She drummed her fingers on the table. 

“We can’t stand by and do nothing.” 

Bull smiled. “Well no. We can’t. What we can do is wait for backup.” 

Cassandra raised her eyebrows. “Backup?” 

“Backup.” Bull winked. “There’s the first one now.” 

She turned, shaking her head at the figure strutting towards them. “Oh no.” 

“Seeker! Tell me what’s a holy woman like you doing in a place like this?” 

~~

_ Mahanon slipped into his quarters, still in his armor. They had gotten back two days earlier than expected, albeit later than he would have liked. It had been imperative, word had reached him that clan Lavellan was being assaulted by bandits and he had hurried them home fast as he dared to get matters sorted out. Cullen would ride out with his best men in the morning, and he hoped all would be well. He peeled off the mail gauntlets and gloves, dropping them carelessly on the floor as he went. He’d deal with it in the morning. Mahanon was lost in thought, wishing he could ride out to deal with the bandits himself. It went against his nature to let someone else defend his own clan.  _ If they even want me there. _ He was jerked out of his musings by the soft snore and the lump in his bed.  _

_ Mahanon smiled when he realized who it was. He quickly stripped the rest of his armor and clothes and crawled under the covers. Dorian barely shifted, mumbling.  _

_ “Stop it Xander I’m trying to sleep.”  _

_ “Who’s Xander emma vhenan?”  _

_ There was a moment where Mahanon was certain Dorian wouldn’t respond, too far gone. Then he woke, blinking like an owl. His hair was wonderfully mussed, firelight dancing across his skin. He stared at Mahanon like he’d been gone for years rather than days. The moment passed, Dorian recovering his mask quickly.  _

_ “I don’t know if you noticed but some of us are trying to sleep.”  _

_ Mahanon chuckled and kissed him. He meant it to be quick, but Dorian embraced him, forcing him closer. The kiss deepened and Mahanon understood. Dorian was telling him he missed him in the way he knew how. He smiled against the man’s lips, kissing him gently once more before laying down. Dorian curled around him.  _

_ “I thought you weren’t due back for another two days.”  _

_ “Didn’t want to get caught sneaking into my room?”  _

_ Dorian huffed against his neck. “They actually gave you a half-decent mattress amatus.”  _

_ “Mmhmm.” Mahanon let out an involuntary sigh as his mind returned to his clan.  _

_ “You’ve already interrupted my beauty sleep. You might as well tell me what’s causing you to make that face.”  _

_ He rolled over, finding Dorian watching him carefully. Mahanon bit his lip.  _

_ “My clan is being attacked by bandits. I would ride out to defend them. I trust Cullen but…”  _

_ “It’s your family.” Dorian lay back, pulling Mahanon to his chest. “Do you have something pressing? We could leave with Cullen in the morning.”  _

_ “No. They won’t want me.”  _

_ “Why ever not?”  _

_ Mahanon sucked a bite into Dorian’s chest to avoid answering the question. Dorian was onto him though, grabbing his chin.  _

_ “Amatus.”  _

_ He sighed. “I’ll tell you the whole sordid tell in the morning. For now…”  _

_ Dorian reached down and pulled the blankets over them. “For now, you rest.”  _

_ Mahanon let out a noise of contentment, settling down. For now. He waited until he was sure Dorian was asleep before murmuring the words into the dark.  _

_ “Ma’arlath Dorian.”  _

The Imperium was exactly what Mahanon had pictured it would be, and nothing like what he thought at all. A lot like meeting his first Tevinter mage had been, if he stopped to consider it. For one, it was incredible. Dorian hadn’t been wrong about it’s beauty. Mahanon remembered walking into Val Royeaux for the first time, being amazed at the size and scope of the dwellings. Every corner was colorful, all the people dressed up like birds. He could feel the history and the power. Nearly every city they entered was a repeat of that experience. 

Which was quickly followed by an anger that almost got him killed. Cold hate every time he saw a collar around a human neck, every time he saw someone marked with the vallaslin staring down at the ground, every time he heard the word “slave.” His “master” had all but thrown him to the gound at his first slave market. Mahanon wasn’t sure how he was expected to stand still when a woman’s back was flayed open, blood trickling over the polished cobblestones while everyone else just watched. It had twisted his stomach, making him nauseous.

He was traveling with a human who was with the Viran Revas, a noble of all things. His name was Logan, and he seemed a decent enough man. He got Mahanon to Marnus Pell. The Viran Revas had a name, Aislinn Artford. She had a property on the coast. It helped House Pavus was in an uproar, and all of their search efforts had been concentrated in that area. Even an unwanted son was not to be trifled with it seemed. When they reached the city, Logan took him to a property on it’s the outskirts. At long last, he was at the manor of the Lady Artford. The She of the Followers. His heart lurched in his chest. _If she’s harmed one hair on Dorian’s head…_ He shook himself and let Logan lead him to the door. 

It was a beautiful day, he’d give it that much, and it was a beautiful property. Isolated, the city was miles in the distance. It was hot, the salty air stinging his nostrils, and the sun glinted sharply off the water. He could hear gulls and see the large, barking mammals Logan had informed her were called sea lions bathing themselves in the sun. He had to wonder what the fat brown animals had anything to do with sea lions. Logan reached up and unlocked the collar he’d been forced to wear in every city. 

“Apologies about this Inquisitor.” 

“It’s fine.” 

It wasn’t. But it had gotten him this far. The door opened at last, an elven girl looking at them with wide eyes before casting them down. Logan spoke. 

“Lord Logan Ervine. Tell your mistress I’ve brought her the Inquisitor, as promised.” 

The girl stared at Mahanon with those eyes, before forcing her eyes down and retreating. They stepped into the foyer and Mahanon looked up. Chandelier, creepy dragon statues, a general sense that every object was more valuable than he was. Mahanon got the sense they were in the right place. He glanced at Logan. 

“Remember, get him out. No matter what.” 

“If you’re certain. What of you?” 

Mahanon shrugged. “My life is of little consequence here, don’t you think?” 

“It’s been an honor Inquisitor.” 

Then the door at the top of the double staircase opened. A hard-faced man, the long scar that crossed his face dividing it in two, started down them. A woman, green eyes as hard and beautiful as emeralds, dark hair and skin offset by a gown to match those eyes, stood at the stairs. Her eyes raked over Mahanon, taking in every detail. 

“So you’re the prize I’ve worked so long for.” 

Her man reached Mahanon, drawing his blade and whipping the tip to his throat. “Disarm.” 

“This is unnecessary. He came willingly.” Logan snapped. 

Mahanon put his arm out, drawing his daggers. He kept his eyes on Artford. He didn’t hide anything, and soon a pile of weapons lay at his feet. When he was done, the bodyguard produced a pair of manacles, cuffing Mahanon. He had to bite back a snarl. He did look up at Artford again. 

“I want to say goodbye to him.” 

She smirked, but nodded. “Very well. Darling take him to the dungeons. Logan come have a cup of tea while you wait.” 

Mahanon forced a grin as Logan looked on, clearly troubled. “Smile man, the statues are watching.” 

With that he was dragged off. 

~~

_“I do love you too you know.”_

_Dorian sat down on the battlements, pressing his back to the walls. Mahanon snorted softly, dragging his whetstone over his dagger._

_“Do you now?”_

_He swallowed, pressing on. “Yes yes. And before you get all sentimental on me again, just know it’s probably the brandy Varric has been plying me with all morning talking.”_

_“Ah.”  Mahanon continued to stare at his dagger. “And why has Varric been plying you with brandy all morning?”_

_Dorian tried to maintain his glare on the elf, but the blasted man was sitting on the edge of the wall, facing the long drop to the ground. He would never understand the man’s fascination with heights._

Here we go. “ _I’m going back.”_

_Mahanon paused, looking up at last. He was hurt, Dorian could see it. But the anger wasn’t there. Just sorrow. It was so much worse that way. Mahanon set his dagger aside and twisted, kissing Dorian heatedly. He found he was wrapping his arm around the elf’s waist, afraid he would fall of the edge. Mahanon broke the kiss, looking down. He laughed. It was broken and small, and it tore through Dorian._

_“So you do care.”_

_“I just assume you look better not splattered all over the courtyard. Imagine the scandal it would cause.”_

_There was more heat behind the words than he intended. Mahanon disentangled himself, getting to his feet._

_“What do you want from me, exactly? My blessing?”_

_Dorian felt his own ire rise. “Why? I need the great Inquisitor’s permission now? Would you like me to bow and lick your boots as well?”_

_Mahanon rounded on him. “I would like you to make up your damned mind! Do you want to be with me or not?”_

_“I want to do the right thing!”_

_The elf clenched his jaw, talking through clenched teeth. “Then fucking go.”_

_He turned on his heel, storming off. Dorian let out a long string of curses, glaring at the hapless guard who exited Cullen’s office at the wrong moment. The Commander stuck his head out, raising his eyebrows in question. Dorian waved him off and went to go storm around himself. It was that or drink and do something foolish. He was angry, though if it was at himself or Mahanon he wasn’t really certain. He had hoped the elf would understand, if anyone would. How was Dorian worthy of him if he longed for a homeland rife with slavery and blood magic? Pride kept him angry for the rest of the day. Pride, and the fear this was it. He and Mahanon would go their separate ways, and the only man he had ever truly loved would be lost to him forever._

_At least, until the elf came to him that night, taking his book from him. Without a word he set it aside, pulling Dorian to his feet. He took Dorian’s hands in his calloused ones, warm even in the drafty castle. Mahanon stared at their joined hands for a long moment, evidently trying to find the words. Dorian tugged him closer. He didn’t want to hear them after all. Mahanon buried his face in Dorian’s chest, and he knew everything the elf had to say._

Dorian heard the door to the dungeon’s open. It was just the two cells, rather paltry really. They hadn’t bother chaining him. Someone would come down to beat him up when Aislinn got bored. The worst times had been when a mage friend of hers would come. _His_ magic worked here. And he was the type who if he'd been a cat, would have played with the mice before he ate them. But Dorian knew he could bide until the opportunity to escape presented itself. Had to. Mahanon could not save him. Not from this. He should have known better when he looked up to see the blasted elf, hands manacled in front of him, Aislinn’s pet bodyguard leading him by the neck. Dorian felt like he’d been hit in the gut again. The door open and Patten shoved Mahanon into the cell. The elf only had eyes for Dorian though. Dorian braced his shoulders, propping them both up, and shook his head. 

“You can’t be here.” 

Mahanon pressed his lips to Dorian’s desperately. Dorian allowed it, feeling talons dig their way into his heart. Fear racked him as he kissed Mahanon. 

“Amatus what did you do?” 

Mahanon smiled, though it didn’t meet his eyes. “What I had to. You must go.” 

“No. Mahanon-”

“You heard him. Time’s up.” 

Dorian ignored him, eyes pricking with tears. “Mahanon.”

He cupped the elf’s face. He leaned into Dorian’s hands, closing his eyes. “Ma’arlath. Forgive me.” 

Patten grabbed Dorian’s arm, dragging him away. Dorian fought him, trying to get back to Mahanon. The elf snapped at him, voice breaking. 

“Dorian just go!” 

“No!” 

He lost the battle though, the cell door slamming shut in between them. He struck at Patten, but it was a laughable effort. He was no brawler, he had no magic here, and he was weak from his time in the dungeon. Patten dragged him out, into the waiting arms of a stranger who forced him to leave Mahanon behind. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to post this and hide. Ma'arlath is elven for "I love you,"


	9. Say It Ain't So

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hate this chapter with a passion but hey it exists now. Life happened so things might be a little sporadic but I'm thinking a chapter ten and an epilogue and that'll be this story. (Also I don't know why I named this chapter after a Weezer song either. Cough syrup probably.)

_Mahanon sat on the back of the aravel, hands bound, listening to the Keeper argue with the other hunters. About him. They didn’t know what to do with him. He hadn’t had a time or a way to hide the rope marks on the human’s body from where he’d struggled. Sulahn had yet to return, something he was grateful for. He wasn’t sure he would be able to stay his hand should he see him again. The shouting stopped abruptly. Mahanon looked up to see one of the scouts dart into camp, panting as he spoke. The way everyone turned to look at him in unison, his stomach sank. Istimaethoriel strode towards him, face grave. He came alone._

_His nose throbbed where Sulahn had broken it. Istimaethorial grabbed it suddenly, making Mahanon bare his teeth in a silent snarl. The Keeper grunted._

_“This was left too long Lethallin.” He released Mahanon with a shake of his head. “I’ll heal it in a moment. The humans come for you. They don’t believe your story either.”_

_He leveled Mahanon with his stare. Sulahn’s eyes in an older face. Absent their recently acquired malice. Mahanon shifted his shoulders._

_“I told you the truth.”_

_“Really Da’fen? Then where is Sulahn? Why has he not returned by now?”_

_Mahanon shrugged. “Perhaps the urge to hunt suddenly came upon him on his way home.”_

_Istimaethoriel sighed. “Do you want to know what I think? I think Sulahn is the guilty party and you are covering for him like you always have.”_

_“The clan needs him. More than you need me. Let the humans have me if it’ll make things easier.”_

_To his surprise, the Keeper smiled. It was brief but bright. He bumped foreheads with Mahanon like they used to._

_“Da’fen you do not know what your loss would mean for us.” He stepped back, inclining his head. “Come on. I need you to look as pathetic and assaulted as you’re capable of if we are to salvage this.”_

_Mahanon hopped off the back of the aravel, keeping his head held high. He had chosen his path, and he would walk it with sure feet. Whatever came next._

Artford kept him waiting for five days. No food, no water, not even Patten’s beautiful face to keep him company. He’d done what he came to do, gotten Dorian out. He passed the time remembering. It was slightly less miserable that way. Mostly, he lived out his memories of Dorian. Of when they first met, of his promise to protect Mahanon. Watching him stand nose to nose with his father, and thinking he’d never met anyone braver. Their first kiss. 

Sulahn had been easy until the end. Easy to love, easy to protect. He had always been Mahanon’s. Dorian, in sharp contrast, fought him, tried his patience, and made it clear he was a foolish martyr who was going to get himself, and most likely his followers, killed. And Mahanon was his, body and soul. He’d never loved anything or anyone more fiercely. 

It made his own fears bearable. When he had stood up in front of the Orlesian nobility and beat them at their own game, when he’d fallen into the Fade once more, or when he’d drunk from the Well of Sorrows despite giving his freewill over to a goddess he wasn’t sure he believed in. He’d never told Dorian, but it was all for him. He was certain the mage would have laughed him off anyways and told him he was mad. Not that he’d be wrong. 

It was that same love that made him look Artford in the eye when she finally deigned to speak with him. His strength was sapped, head fuzzy as she smiled at him. A viper if he’d ever seen one. 

“You cut a fine figure for an elf.” 

He didn’t speak. Just waited. Patten appeared at her shoulder, face twisted into a smile as he looked at his mistress. Mahanon and Artford continued to stare at each other. He found it odd she didn’t blink once. Finally, she waved her hand. 

“Prepare him. Silentir rises.”  

That piqued his curiosity. “I can’t wait to hear what that has to do with anything.” 

“Don’t worry darling. This will all be over soon. Silence awaits you.” 

“Yes. I feel much better now. Thank you.” 

She laughed softly. It sent a shiver down his spine. She lifted her skirts and left. Patten grinned at Mahanon, before unlocking the cell. He finally had to ask. 

“What are you preparing me for?” 

Patten grabbed his neck, pushing him out of the cell. “You’re her sacrifice to Dumat.” 

“Oh, of course.” 

Mahanon swung his arms up, hitting Patten in the face with the manacles. He felt a satisfying crunch of bone before he grabbed the keys. Patten didn’t quite have the time to recover before Mahanon locked him in the cell. He had to stop then to catch his breath, head spinning. Patten banged his hands on the bars, face turning red. 

“You can’t do this! My lady needs her sacrifice!” 

He snorted, working on unlocking the manacles. Patten continued to shout, eventually falling to sputtering curses as he raged against the bars. At last the iron cuffs dropped, and Mahanon smiled. His marked hand spasmed, pain running up his arm. He ignored it, focusing on getting out of the dungeon. If his luck continued to hold out, he might just get out of this with his life. 

~~

_“No. Keep going! Run!”_  

_Dorian opened his eyes to find Mahanon murmuring in his sleep. He jerked his head from side to side before calling out again._

_“Run!”_

_He reached over and shook the elf gently. A hand gripped him, fingers digging in. Mahanon’s eyes were wild, his breathing ragged. Dorian kept his voice low._

_“It’s me Mahanon. You’re alright. You’re safe.”_

_Mahanon came back to himself slowly, drawing his breath in deliberately to calm himself. He released Dorian’s arm before he sat up with a curse._

_“Abelas. Forgive me this is not how I wanted tonight to go.”_

_Dorian felt a little helpless. “You thought about how tonight was going to go?”_

_The elf swung his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring Dorian. Granted, Mahanon had said he wanted more than just fun. But it was only their first night together, and he wondered if he was overstepping by sleeping here. He hesitated, not sure what to do. Then he noticed how tense Mahanon was, the muscles in his back rigid as he buried his face in his hands. Dorian sat up, running a hand over the elf’s back, trying to soothe him. He was used to seeing the elf drawn taut like a bowstring, even at rest he was always ready for a fight. This was different._

_“You have these dreams often amatus?”_

_The word was new. Untried. Part of him hoped Mahanon didn’t hear it. The elf relaxed a little, so Dorian kept rubbing his back._

_“It’s foolish. Being this terrified of something I can’t remember. I didn’t want you to see me like this.”_

_Dorian paused a moment._ Of all the foolish notions. _He sat up, letting his hand rest idly on Mahanon’s neck. The elf threw him a sideways glance. Dorian ran his thumb along his neck, trying to choose his words carefully._

_“I watched you face down a dragon and a would-be god. You stood by my side after that display with my father. You honestly think you having a nightmare is going to make me think less of you?”_

_Mahanon snorted. “Well when you put it like that…”_

_“Come here.”_

_The elf let Dorian tug him back into his arms, let him lay them back down. He rubbed Mahanon’s back again, feeling him loosen up as the bed warmed. Still, the goal was to get the idiot to sleep for a change._

_“You can go back to sleep you know. You’re safe. I’m here.”_

_Mahanon grunted. Dorian kissed his forehead and the man smiled, burrowing closer._

_“So what does amatus mean?”_

_“Now we are definitely going back to sleep.”_

Dorian twisted Mahanon’s ring on his finger as he listened to the members of the Viran Revas argue. Varric sat down next to him, forcing Dorian to look up at the dwarf. It had been a shock, to say the least, when Mahanon’s inner circle had stepped out of cramped cart the day before, the Viran Revas smuggling them over the border. It had improved Dorian’s mood, marginally. Except for the fact Cassandra and Vivienne were currently arguing with the leaders of the Viran Revas as to how to get inside the manse to actually save the man. It was making his head throb. 

“How’re you holding up Sparkler?” 

Dorian shook his head. “Was that a serious question?” 

“Guess not.” The dwarf sighed. “We’ll get him out.” 

“Sure. And then we will all skip off into the sunset together holding hands and singing those charming southern chantry hymns.” 

Varric tapped his chin. “I’m not sure Cassandra will hold my hand.” 

“Varric-”

The dwarf raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll just sit here with my mouth closed.” 

“Are you even capable?” 

Before the dwarf could respond someone tapped Dorian on the shoulder. He turned to find Logan had emerged from his own study, face grim. 

“Come with me for a moment.” 

Dorian exchanged a glance with Varric. He got the distinct impression things were, somehow, about to get worse. Varric rose with him and they both followed Logan to his study. The man ran a hand through his dark hair, making it stick up. In their short acquaintance Dorian had come to respect him, grudgingly. He had let Mahanon walk willingly into Artford’s arms after all. Logan tapped at the pile of papers before him. 

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?” 

Dorian shrugged. “The good news I suppose.” 

“I figured out how she suppressed your magic.” 

That was good news. It had taken two days after his release for him to be able to cast again. 

“How?” 

“She’s been perfecting a way to suppress magic for years. Naturally. She was slipping an extract of a rare type of deep mushroom. A plant that developed a resistance to magic like the dwarves did.” Logan shrugged. “She probably has other means of blocking magic in her manor, but she won’t be able to block your connection to the Fade again.” 

Dorian nodded. “Alright. What’s the bad news?” 

Logan pulled out a star map. “Aislinn’s one goal, and this has been since we were children and the rest of us developed magic, is to be one of us. It seems she may have found a way.” 

“Impossible. Even with blood magic. The amount of power it would take…” 

Varric was looking at the document. “Time travel is supposed to be impossible too Sparkler.” 

“For now, it’s irrelevant.” Logan chewed his lip, not quite meeting Dorian’s eye. “As these things tend to go, it involves Dumat, a blood sacrifice, and a very precise time frame.” 

“At last, he approaches the point.” 

Logan snorted as Varric tapped the paper. “She’s going to perform the ritual tonight. Under Silentir.” 

“And the Inquisitor is her chosen sacrifice.” 

Dorian leaned forward, gripping the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white. “So whatever we do, we must do before tonight.” 

The other Altus nodded. “Which means we go in now.” 

~~

Mahanon found his things easily enough. He even managed to find some water and a plate of bread and cheese, what he assumed was Patten’s lunch. He ate a few bites and gulped down the water before attempting to sneak out of the mansion. He knew the place was probably laden with magical wards to prevent this very thing. There were a lot of slaves about. He grit his teeth, wondering if there was a way to free them as well. Now that he could think more clearly, he had decided to just walk out the front door. 

He didn’t even make it out of the kitchens. A type of ward he’d never even seen before triggered, trapping his feet in place. Two of the slaves entered, looking at him with wide eyes as he struggled with the invisible tendrils wrapping around his legs. 

“Help me! I can free you!” 

They were so damned young. Too young to have so many scars, to be so cowed and afraid. He got the distinct sour feeling his gut they’d been bred for this life, for this family. The elven girls just froze while human guards walked in, hands on their swords. On seeing him the woman leered, her partner waving his hands to the slaves.

“Get.” 

The girls ran out, the woman stepping forward. She circled Mahanon, doing her best impression of a vulture. 

“You’re the knife-ear who locked Patten up.” 

“Was that me?” Now his arms refused to move to unsheathe his daggers. 

Vulture snorted and then reached back, punching him in the mouth with a gauntleted hand. It broke the ward at least, knocking him on his back. He hit his head on the counter going down, seeing stars. He spat out the blood welling in his mouth as the two sell-swords grabbed his hands and lifted him to his feet. 

“Our Lady is waiting for her guest of honor.” 

Mahanon shook his head, trying to clear it. Now, he was starting to panic. _Well. Shit._  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silentir is a often depicted as a dragon. It also represents Dumat depending on who you ask. Basically cult leader is crazy and love makes you dumb is my characterization for everybody.


	10. Angel of Small Death

Mahanon was dazed as he was manacled once more and then stripped. He was scrubbed clean with icy water, by the same two girls form the kitchen. It was cold, clinical, and made him clench his jaw so tightly it ached. After he was anointed with lavender oil and forced into a white robe. Nothing was done for his head, and the spicy scent of the lavender made his stomach churn and his head pound. Worse still was the despair the creeped over him. It was rare he felt helpless, even more so that he was truly afraid he was going to die. But try as he might, he had nothing. _Dorian forgive me._  

They led him to the ballroom. Sweeping windows, a view of the sun casting its last bit of light over the ocean, and polished tiles gleaming under the sea of candles. The only other object in the vast room was an altar. A stone dragon, ancient and cold, stared at him as the guards carried him to its feet. They dropped him on his knees, hands bound tightly behind his back. He heard the door open behind him, the whisper of silk on the tiles as Artford made her appearance. She knelt in front of him, and he noted she too, was dressed in white. The nausea got worse. She cupped his cheek, forcing his eyes to hers. She ran a thumb over his vallaslin, sighing happily.  

“You have no idea how long I have ached for this Mahanon.” 

He grit his teeth, head throbbing again. The temptation to bite her hand was all too strong. The urge to fight worked it’s way back up his spine. It was fed still when the door opened again and a long line of slaves were brought in, all naked and looking terrified. The certainty of what their purpose was stole over him quietly. He knew, as did they, what came next. He recognize the two girls from the kitchen, one crying in silence. Artford pressed a kiss to his forehead and rose. A man he didn’t recognize, wearing the robes of the Magisterium, came in bearing an ornate dagger on a pillow. Patten was nipping at his heels, all cleaned up. His nose was clearly broken though, no healer wasted on him. That one felt good at least. 

The sun set completely, the only light the candles. Patten pulled Mahanon to his feet by the manacles, grabbing his hair in order to bare his throat. He was to be the first sacrifice then. The magister started to cast, beginning a chant. 

“Tonight is the night silence falls. We offer up this sacrifice as we listen in despair for Dumat, and ask him t-”

“Oh for the love of all that is good and holy shut-up.” 

Mahanon rocked his head back into Patten’s broken nose. The magister raised his hand and Mahanon drove his head into his stomach. It sent both the dagger and the mage flying. He fell to his knees again, struggling with the pain. Artford screeched at her guards. 

“Grab him!” 

They moved towards him as tried to rise. The door exploded then, actually exploded. Most of the candles blew out as Dorian’s voice echoed in his ear. 

“Now amatus I know you didn’t start the party without me.” 

There stood the mage, eyes stormy as he slammed his staff into the ground. Behind him were their friends, weapons at the ready. The world stopped for just a moment as Mahanon’s eyes met Dorian’s. Then he felt the point of a dagger in his back, Artford’s voice whispering in his ear. 

“I know you didn’t think it’d be that easy.” 

He snorted. “I was hoping that, actually.” 

Dorian clucked his tongue. “Now now my dear you’re forgetting one thing.” 

He snapped his fingers and the manacles cracked wide open, clanking to the floor. Mahanon twisted, grabbing the dagger from Artford. He drove it into her stomach in one swift motion, the blood pouring over the white. Her eyes went wide as he spoke his good-bye. 

“May the Dread Wolf never hear your steps.”

The room exploded into chaos around them as the fight began. He lowered her to the floor, only to come face to face with her pet magister. And, if the look of hate on his face was anything to go by, her lover. 

~~

_Dorian’s boots crunched through the snow. He was just_ so _enchanted with the stuff. Really, he hoped Mahanon would drag him to Empris Du Lion every chance the blasted elf got. So soon after Corypheus too. He pulled his furs tighter around him, feeling he couldn’t possibly shake any harder without falling apart. At least he was almost back to camp. No Mahanon though. The elf had disappeared again, not even telling Dorian where he had gone after supper. He wasn’t sleeping, and it was starting to show. Dorian missed the slight crunch of snow before a gloved hand slipped over his mouth. He whirled wildly to find the elf with a finger pressed to his lips. He glared at Mahanon, his heart hammering in his chest. The elf smiled softly in contrition, waving his hand for Dorian to follow._

_As if he’d ever had the choice. It was slightly creepy, this frozen and ruined wasteland in the moonlight. Still, he was safe enough with the Dalish. They walked silently through the woods, Mahanon grabbing Dorian’s hand at one point and not letting go._ Silly, sentimental, foolish man. _He smiled when he thought Mahanon wasn’t looking. The elf moved as if he had no feet, stepping lightly over the snow. Dorian felt like a giant, making enough noise to wake the dead. Which would not be out of the realm of possibility for this cursed place. Mahanon kept him from slipping several times as they made there was to wherever it was they were going. Finally, they came to a clearing and Mahanon tugged Dorian down next to him._

_Dorian glared at him, exasperated. It had finally happened, the elf had lost the few brains he had left. Mahanon caught the expression on his face and laughed silently, teeth flashing in the dark. His eyes caught the moonlight, stirring something in Dorian he wasn’t quite ready to face yet. It was a lot like looking down at the edge of a particularly tall cliff, and his stomach twisted. Mahanon pressed frozen lips to his briefly, before pointing towards the clearing. There was a pack of wolves, black with green eyes. Dorian froze, feeling Mahanon’s hand on his shoulder as the perfectly reasonable urge to run overcame him. The elf squeezed him though, pointing once more. Dorian followed his finger to find a white wolf, the lone one amongst the pack, staring at them. It didn’t move though, green eyes holding Dorian’s gaze._

_The moment lasted for an eternity, Mahanon a statue next to him. The the wolf sat on his haunches and howled. The pack joined in. Dorian decided as strange as his life and become of late, this may be the most surreal moment in it by far. He looked to Mahanon, who seemed to shake himself, coming out of a trance. He grabbed Dorian’s hand in his own once more, before leading them back to camp. He looked troubled as they lay in their tent, kissing Dorian possessively before laying him down. It was only when he was drifting off that Mahanon spoke, whispering the name so softly Dorian wasn’t sure he heard it at all._

_“Fen’harel.”_

“Get the elves out of here!” 

Cassandra’s voice behind him. A couple of bolts whizzing past his head and embedding themselves into necks. Varric and Sera. A guttural cry as Bull charged past him. The clang of a shield and a familiar grunt and Blackwall met his first man. The prickling feeling of Vivienne’s barrier over his skin. And Cole, appearing in a flash in front of a guard and his prey. 

But it was Mahanon who had all of Dorian’s attention as he killed Aislinn, laying her down as if to put her to bed. That was when the strange magister who had spent days torturing Dorian got to his feet. Dorian lit his robes on fire, only to be countered by a powerful ward. He worked to overcome it, pressing closer as the man caused the handle of Mahanon’s dagger to burn white-hot. He dropped it, crying out. Two unoccupied men came after Dorian and he blasted them into the walls, running to Mahanon. He pushed him out of the way right as the magister flipped his staff, driving the blade into Dorian’s stomach. 

“No!” 

Dorian gasped, the pain exquisite. Still, he grasped the last of his magic, sensing the man’s wards were down. He electrocuted him before falling into Mahanon’s arms. The elf lowered him to the floor, reaching down with trembling hands to remove the blade. He cupped a hand to the wound, crying out. 

“Vivienne!” 

Dorian let out an involuntary moan. Mahanon’s voice was shaky, his free hand going to Dorian’s face. 

“Emma vhenan what did you do?” 

Dorian did his best to smile, to soothe the worry on the elf’s face. “What I had t-damn that smarts.” 

He felt his eyelids get extremely heavy, hands going cold. He also knew that was a bad sign. Vivienne joined them, hands going to his stomach. Mahanon kept Dorian’s head in his lap, murmuring in elven. He was praying. 

“Amatus I-” 

Mahanon shook his head. “Don’t.” 

Dorian laughed, moaning again. “It’s alright. You’re safe.” 

“Fenedhis. You can’t do this. Not now.” 

He wanted to argue that yes, he could, but the exhaustion made it’s way to his tongue. His head was starting to swim. He caught the expression on Vivienne’s face. Mahanon did too. He stroked Dorian’s hair. 

“Stay awake damn you. Don’t do this. Please Dorian.” 

Dorian wanted to apologize. He had never wanted to see that look on Mahanon’s face. But he was too far gone. He closed his eyes, sinking into the dark. 

~~

_One week later_ …

“We are in the middle of the Tevinter Imperium!” 

Mahanon threw his hands in the air. “Really Cassandra? I hadn’t noticed! What tipped you off the blood magic or the dragons? There’s at least three creepy statues watching us right now.” 

“Inquisitor we have to-”

“Uh if I may interject for a moment?” 

“Not now Dorian!” 

Mahanon turned back to Cassandra before his head snapped back. Dorian was standing on his own, leaning onto the stairwell. He looked pleased as punch with himself. Mahanon growled at him. 

“What are you doing? Did you hit your head too? Get back to bed!” 

Dorian sighed, appealing to Cassandra. “Could you please inform the mother hen formally known as Mahanon that I am not, in fact, an invalid?” 

She waved them both off, turning on her heel. “No. He’s all yours. Inquisitor think on what I said.” 

“Vishante kaffas.” 

Dorian sighed. He sat down on the steps while Mahanon paced back and forth. Then he stopped, rubbing the back of his neck. Dorian was just sitting in a pair of breeches, bandages wrapped tightly around his dark skin. As always, the bandages brought a sharp twinge of guilt and Mahanon walked over to him. 

“Come on, let’s get you back to bed.” 

“Oh no. That argument was the most entertaining thing I’ve seen in days. What, pray tell, was it about?” 

Mahanon snorted. “It was nothing. Let’s go.” 

“Unless you’re planning to drag me back by my ear, I’m not going. I don’t know if you noticed but I’ve been extraordinarily bored.” 

He snorted, resting his hands on Dorian’s knees. He pressed his forehead to the mage’s. 

“I have noticed actually. You tell me every time you open your mouth.” 

Dorian kissed him lightly. Then he winced, trying to hide it from Mahanon. He was still trying to pretend he hadn’t almost died, or that the blade hadn’t been enchanted to do the most damage possible. Mahanon squeezed his knees. 

“Tell you what, you go back to bed and I will spend the rest of the afternoon making sure you’re entertained.” 

“Why Inquisitor that sounds naughty.” 

Mahanon sighed and pulled Dorian to his feet. “I don’t think tying you to the bed and then leaving you there is naughty.” 

“Depends on who walks in after you leave. I do have other suitors you know.” 

“They can have you if you don’t recover from this.” 

Dorian clapped his hand to his chest. “You wound me so. After I took a fatal blow for you.” 

“Which you have made certain I will never forget about.” 

“Not for the rest of your days.” 

Mahanon pulled Dorian’s arm around his shoulders when the mage paused to rest at the top of the stairs. He liked the sound of this ‘rest of your days’ business, if Dorian would live long enough to get there. They arrived at the room at last and Mahanon set him down on the bed. 

“Don’t lay down yet. I want to change those.”

Dorian rolled his eyes but did as he was told. He’d learned his lesson about noncompliance earlier that week when Mahanon had taken away his books for being difficult. He grabbed the clean bandages before unwrapping the dirty ones. The wound cut to look at, but it was getting better. He let his hand rest for a moment on Dorian’s side, examining it. The flesh below his palm was warm and smooth, grounding him. Dorian leaned back a little, trying to meet Mahanon’s eyes. 

“What was the argument about?” 

Mahanon groaned and began winding bandages around Dorian’s waist. “Well. You may have noticed we are in the Tevinter Imperium.” 

“The thought had occurred to me, yes.” 

“And that the Inquisition’s presence here is you, me, and a handful of misfits that includes a Qunari, a dwarf, and an elf threatening to burn down every mansion she sees.” 

Dorian chuckled. “I might like to see that actually.” 

Mahanon grunted. “So if a certain Magister Halward asks an Altus where his only son is, there is only so much we can do to stonewall him.” 

“I see.” 

He tied off the bandages and bowed his head. “And we have to go. I have to get everyone out of here. The Viran Revas are getting antsy. But you aren’t healed and I won’t leave you behind.” 

Dorian grabbed his shoulder, shaking him slightly. “Mahanon. Take a breath.” 

“Make me.” 

“Kaffas.” Dorian pressed a hand to his cheek, smiling. “Get me a piece of paper and something to write on.” 

Mahanon nodded and went to rise. “Then what?” 

Dorian stopped him by grabbing his hand, pulling him into a kiss. “First, I deal with my father. After that _we_ can finally go home amatus.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter! Epilogue next that may or may not include a preview of the sequel I may or may not be writing. Oh and if you have ideas or requests feel free to leave them in the comments or hit me up on my blog which I shamelessly plugged in an earlier chapter.


	11. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a disgusting, horrifically sweet epilogue for your enjoyment.

_Two months later…_

Dorian woke up reluctantly, mostly because he noticed Mahanon was gone. It was easy to miss the elf’s furnace-like body heat. He groaned and sat up. It was late in the morning. Way later than the elf usually let him sleep. He rubbed his eyes as the door opened and Mahanon walked in carrying a tray ladened with food. It was wider than he was and piled high with all of Dorian’s favorite foods. He chuckled as he remembered. It was his name day. 

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” 

Mahanon grunted, trying to balance the tray and close the door with his foot at the same time. He managed it, somehow making the action look graceful. He crossed the room and set the tray on the bed, leaning over gingerly to kiss Dorian good morning. He smelled like cinnamon and honey, and whatever it was that was entirely unique to Mahanon. The elf smiled against his lips. 

“Good morning.” 

“To you as well amatus. Something special about today?” 

Mahanon shrugged. “Not at all. I just felt like waking up at the crack of dawn and cooking. Because I love you.” 

“Oh no _you_ made all this?” 

“It’s not exactly special if I order someone else to do it, now is it?” Mahanon sat down on the bed and grabbed a fork. “But if you don’t want it…” 

Dorian slapped his hand away, making the elf chuckle. “I didn’t say that.” 

They had had a long-standing debate about the quality of Mahanon’s cooking since their first morning camping together. Dorian did not want him to win, but he would be remiss if he let this particular breakfast go to waste. Mahanon snagged an apple from the tray and lay back on the pillows, smiling as he watched Dorian eat. It was sickeningly domestic, and he loved every second of it. He even managed to force the elf to eat something more substantial than _fruit_ for a change. Once they were finished Dorian leaned back, Mahanon readjusting so he was stretched out in his lap. Dorian carded his fingers through the elf’s hair, feeling foolish and happy. 

“So what’s on the agenda for the day?” 

Mahanon closed his eyes. “This. Then whatever you want until the banquet.” 

“Banquet?” 

The elf grinned. “Oh right I had Josephine put together a massive feast tonight and invited everyone we know.”

“For me?” 

Mahanon cracked one eye open. “Is that alright?” 

“A banquet to celebrate me? Absolutely.” 

He bent and kissed Mahanon. He tasted sweet, his lips warm. Just like that Dorian knew exactly what he wanted to do the rest of the day. When they came up for air, Dorian tugged at Mahanon’s tunic. 

“You are far too overdressed for what I have in mind.” 

Mahanon glanced down at his shirt with a sly grin. “Well we can’t have that.” 

He sat up and Dorian slid his hands up and under, feeling Mahanon’s lean body burn under him. Heat pooled in his own belly as he bent to whisper in the elf’s ear. 

“No, we can’t.” 

~~

Mahanon was happy. He was trying very hard not to be, but it happened anyways. Dorian was safe again, home and hale. The Inquisition had recovered, for the most part, from his supposed demise. Dorian was working directly with the Viran Revas, from Skyhold at Mahanon’s insistence. The only reminder of that horrible night were Mahanon’s own nightmares and Dorian’s new scar twisting over his belly. But he could reach over and grab Dorian when things got bad, when he was too worried this wouldn’t last. It was coming slowly, but acceptance was inching its way into his heart. 

Dorian had fallen asleep with his head in Mahanon’s lap. It was well-past noon and they had yet to emerge from his quarters. Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine were under strict orders not to disturb them unless they wanted their messengers or themselves thrown out of the window. Dorian let out a snore and Mahanon smiled, stroking his hair as he leaned back, enjoying the sofa and the crackle of the fire. He almost drifted off himself. Then of course, the door opened. 

“Are you and the Vint naked because if not there was no reason to come up here.” 

“Bull I don’t care how big you are I will chuck you over the balcony. Somehow.” 

Dorian woke with a slight start but stilled when Mahanon put his hand back in his hair. Bull chuckled, staying by the door. 

“Cullen said you might say that, that’s why he asked me. Your clan showed up.” 

Mahanon flirted briefly with the idea of kissing the Qunari. He tilted his head back, seeing Iron Bull was eyeing his owls pointedly, hands casually behind his back. 

“Was that everything?” 

Bull grinned and turned back towards the door, tipping his horns. “Not unless you and Dorian had anything else for me.” 

“Festis bei umo canavrum you giant lumbering lummox get out.” 

Mahanon laughed, as did Bull before heading out of the door. Dorian sat up, hand straying to his hair. 

“Must you?” 

“I like it better that way. You look like you’ve been in bed all day.” 

Dorian raised his eyebrows. “Shall we get dressed or do you want to greet your clan in my shirt? Not that _I_ mind per say…” 

“I’ll greet them in your shirt if you’ll leave your hair like that.” 

“You’re the only one who gets the honor to see me like this.” 

Mahanon grinned. “And I am honored believe me.” 

“Stop looking at me like that we will never leave this room.” 

He rose and stretched, watching Dorian watch him. “ _You_ don’t have to go you know. I can go greet them and then come back.” 

“If that’s what you want…” 

“It’s not. I want you to meet them. Properly this time. But it’s your day.” 

Dorian smiled up at him. It hadn’t exactly gone well the first time as they passed back through Wycome, Mahanon sensing the clan’s disapproval had run interference to keep the separated. Dorian had still been on the mend, and he had had no urge to come to blows when the man still needed him. His sexuality had long been a sensitive subject to the clan. His relationship with Sulahn had been tolerated at best. His relationship with a Tevinter mage would drive in the wedge that was already between them. But he was who he was, and he wouldn’t deny himself or Dorian to the clan. 

They dressed slowly and made their way down. Mahanon grabbed Dorian’s hand, smiling when the mage rolled his eyes but didn’t protest. The aravels’ sails were bright against the green of the courtyard, members of the clan watching the various people around Skyhold who were pretending not to stare. Dorian caught how Mahanon froze, shifting on the balls of his feet. He was excited to see everyone, but he didn’t want to abandon Dorian. The mage sighed and squeezed his hand, releasing it and shoving his back lightly. 

“ _Go_ amatus. I’m right behind you.” 

Mahanon hoped his gratitude showed on his face as raced down the steps. He spotted his uncle first. He clasped his arm, their time together all too brief in Wycome. 

“Andaran atish’an lethallin.”

His uncle pulled him into a gruff embrace. “Da’fen. You have a castle.” 

“I do.” He looked Assan up and down. “You look f-”

“Mahanon! Mahanon!” 

Two skinny but astonishingly dense figures tackled him into the grass. He found a matching pair of purple eyes and twin smiles that matched his own. He heard his uncle chuckling as the twins started pelting Mahanon with conversation.

“This place is huge!” 

“Why are there so many shem everywhere?” 

“Where’s the food?” 

Assan came to his rescue, pulling his cousins off by their necks. “I know the two of you weren’t raised by wolves. Go pester Istimaethoriel.” 

Mahanon laughed as they scampered off as Assan threw an arm around his shoulders. He turned and caught Dorian’s eye, seeing him smiling. He let Assan lead him away to greet the others. 

~~

Dorian was happy. He’d found a way to help redeem his homeland while staying by Mahanon’s side. Now, Mahanon had his clan and despite the tension over their relationship, the elf was clearly happy. Dorian watched him swing a little girl up to his hip, more of the clan’s children clamoring for his attention. He wondered how long they were going to stay. He wanted Mahanon to have this all of the time, his family and Dorian. Guilt was not a good emotion for him, and after everything with Sulahn Dorian didn’t want to make things worse. Keeper Lavellan interrupted his musings, appearing at his shoulder as another couple of hunters joined Mahanon and the kids. 

“He’s happy.” 

Dorian nodded. “He is.” 

Istimaethoriel shook his head. “He is quite mad.” 

He turned to examine the aging elf. The man didn’t seem like he disapproved. In fact, he looked amused if anything. Dorian snorted. 

“We are in agreement there.” 

The elf looked Dorian up and down, taking the measure of him, before snorting himself. “I won’t pretend to understand it. But as long as we’re clear I am a very dangerous man, and that boy is very dear to my heart, then the two of you have my blessing if that means anything to you.” 

It did actually. He didn’t want the clan to think he was using Mahanon anymore than he wanted the rest of the world to do so. Not that he would admit it out loud. Their attention turned back to Mahanon, who was once more rolling in the dirt with no less than three children. His ears were tipped red, teeth white as he laughed. It made Dorian’s heart clench with happiness to know that  that wild, fierce creature was his. He had to ask the Keeper something while he had the chance. 

“Why do you call him Little Wolf?” 

The older man laughed from his belly. “He bites. Surely you’ve noticed I can see the marks on your neck.” 

Dorian resisted the urge to clap his hand to his neck. “You make him sound feral.” 

“That’s not far off the mark.” The Keeper gave him a half-smile. “You know the legend of Fen’harel?” 

“Mahanon’s told it to me, yes. The Dread Wolf. He betrayed your gods, locked them all away.” 

Istimaethorial nodded, eyes straying back to Mahanon. “It’s more complex than that in reality. We use figures of Fen’harel to defend us from evil spirits. He’s a guardian of sorts. Mahanon may be a hunter, but he’s a protector first. He bites, but it’s almost always in defense of the pack.” 

That was…astute. Dorian let his eyes find Mahanon again. The Inquisitor extricated himself from the pack of children, some of which now included humans and elves resident to Skyhold. He strode to them, inclining his head to the Keeper. 

“Hahren. Emma vhenan.” He kissed Dorian’s cheek, looking almost bashful. 

That was new. “I thought I’d lost you to the cretins.” 

Mahanon looked down, completely covered in mud in grass stains. He didn’t seem the least bit ashamed. 

“I thought you did too for a moment. The twins are getting big.” 

Istimaethoriel rolled his eyes. “And more like their favorite cousin every day. If you two will excuse me, I am going to go see if their parents will reign them in before they burn down your castle.” 

“It’s alright. With my luck we’ll either find another one underneath it or a dragon. Either way, we win.” 

“How is a dragon a win amatus?” 

Mahanon shrugged. “Bull and the Chargers are here. We will never go hungry again.” 

The Keeper muttered something in elvish and strode off, shaking his head. Mahanon laughed and grabbed Dorian’s hand again, pulling him towards the stairs. 

“I need your help with something.” 

“Is it bathing? Please tell me it’s bathing.” 

Mahanon winked. “You know me all too well ma sar’lath.” 

Dorian let the elf lead him away, noting that the light and tingly feeling was back again. 

~~

The banquet went off without a hitch. Dorian was pleasantly drunk, Josephine was happily worrying about every little detail, and everyone Mahanon or Dorian wanted to be there was. Mahanon and Varric even got Cole to try _one_ sip of wine before he made a face and refused anymore. Vivienne had even made it in from Orlais, trading barbs with Dorian before finding ‘suitable’ company. Cullen was actually joining the party this time, blushing and stuttering in a corner over a woman Mahanon didn’t recognize. He knew Blackwall and Sera were somewhere around, though he was a little worried at how long it had been since he had actually seen them. Leliana and Cassandra were deep in conversation together, since at long last Cassandra was being coronated. She left in the morning. 

His clan was mingling, the copious amounts of wine smoothing the process. All in all, he was quite pleased. At least until he saw Cassandra step outside, Dorian following her. Concerned, he made sure no one else was watching before following them onto the balcony. What he heard stopped him short. 

“So you’re finally leaving us tomorrow? Going on to a nice, boring life of the masses bowing and scraping before you, nothing trying to eat you on a regular basis, how terribly droll.” 

“Was there a reason you followed me out here? This party is for you.” 

Dorian laughed quietly. “We should have parties for me more often. I am quite enjoying it.” 

“Dorian…” 

“Yes alright. I wanted to thank you. Something not in my nature so if we could just leave it there.” 

“For what?” 

Dorian was quiet for a long moment. “For going with him to Tevinter. Or attempting to.” 

She snorted. “It wasn’t for you.” 

“I am well aware. Believe me.” 

Mahanon cleared his throat. “Are we playing nice out here?” 

Cassandra rolled her eyes while Dorian kissed Mahanon. He tasted like wine, and Mahanon had been deep enough into his cups to forget who they were with for a moment. Cassandra made a disgusted noise and Mahanon pushed Dorian away gently. 

“Go inside and sit. I want to make a toast.” 

“Your wish is my command my love.” 

Mahanon felt like a fool at how wide that made him smile. Dorian went back in and he turned to lean on the railing with Cassandra, seeing her shake her head. 

“You are both fools.” 

“Absolutely.” 

She bumped his elbow with her own. “I am glad you found each other.” 

“Are you really?” 

Cassandra ignored him, leaning further on the railing. “I would do it all again. If given the chance.” 

“All of what?” 

“Create the Inquisition. Choose you to lead it.” 

He grinned. “I don’t know if I would do it quite the way we did, but you can be my dance partner anytime Most Holy.” 

She threw her hands up. “I give up. Maker take me I am done.” 

Mahanon chuckled, bowing and holding out his arm. “Come on, I promised Dorian a toast. I want to do it before everyone passes out.” 

She took it, shaking her head again. “A complete and utter fool.” 

They walked in, the party still going strong. He made his way back to his seat and to Dorian, raising his mug. 

“I hate to interrupt but I have something I’d like to say.” 

The hall fell silent. He still wasn’t used to that. He placed a hand on Dorian’s shoulder, using the other to raise his mug. 

“As you all know, this banquet is for a certain Lord Pavus.” 

There were a couple of cheers and a wolf whistle out of Bull. Dorian ducked his head, looking a little sheepish. Mahanon squeezed his shoulder before going on. 

“I just wanted him to know, and the rest of you, that there are few people I have met who are braver, more intelligent, or kind, and rarely do all three traits occur in the same person in such great measure. Dorian, emma vhenan, it is my honor to stand at your side. I love you. To Dorian!” 

“To Dorian!” 

Dorian’s eyes were shining, he got to his feet and cupped Mahanon’s face in both hands, kissing him bodily. After that, Mahanon really didn’t give a damn what was going on in the rest of the room. 

~~

Dorian pushed Mahanon into his room, already working to divest the elf of his shirt. He stopped long enough to give a pointed glance in the direction of the desk and Mahanon cursed softly. 

“Fasta vass just because it’s your name day.” 

Dorian chuckled low, pressing his lips to the elf’s jaw and neck as he shoved him towards the desk. 

"Wait until you see what I have planned for your name day." 

When they reached it Mahanon braced himself, letting Dorian do what he would.

"The war table?" 

"Imagine the look on our dear Commander's face when he finds out." 

He sucked a bite at the hollow of the elf’s neck, enjoying the moan it engendered.

Mahanon's voice was becoming strained. "Now which one of us has a death wish?"

Dorian just laughed again, bending to kiss his handiwork.Then he caught sight of something bright on the desk and paused, looking over Mahanon’s shoulder. It was a small package, wrapped up in pretty paper. Mahanon followed his gaze, cheeks reddening. 

“What is this amatus?” 

He let Mahanon go and picked up the package. The elf rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. 

“It’s nothing.” 

“It doesn’t look like nothing. It looks like a gift.” 

Mahanon snorted. “It is. I had a thought-it’s silly though.” 

“May I open it? Or will you spontaneously combust if I don’t shove this in your drawer and forget it exists?” 

“Go ahead.” 

Dorian smiled, unwrapping the mysterious gift. It apparently wasn’t enough he was wearing the man’s ring. Or that he’d thrown a banquet just for Dorian where he declared his love for a Tevinter mage in front of everyone he knew. The paper fell away to reveal a carved wolf, painted white with green eyes. There was a hole drilled through it with a piece of cord. Dorian looked up, curious. 

“Is this Fen’harel?” 

Mahanon nodded. “I asked Blackwall to show me how. Never carved anything before. I thought maybe you could tie it to your staff or something.” 

“You made this.” 

The elf bobbed his head again. “I thought…it’s ridiculous. We use them to ward off evil spirits. For protection.” 

Dorian thought back to Istimaethorial’s words on the subject and smiled. He was touched. 

“Afraid I’d run off with a desire demon?” 

“Saw right through me again did you?” 

He chuckled. “Do you always answer a question with question?” 

“Would you prefer me to answer in some other fashion?” 

Dorian closed the distance between them, deciding to skip the rest of this game. Mahanon’s hand snaked its way into his hair. Dorian wrapped his arms around him. He kissed the elf gently before pulling back just a bit. 

“It was a good thought amatus. I love you.” 

“Aye. I love you too. Now, where were we?” 

Dorian laughed again and kissed him. _He_ was right where he wanted to be. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is! Thank you so much to everyone who read this and left kudos and comments. You guys have been great and it's made me definitely want to write a sequel once I get a decent plot hammered out. There will probably be one-shots cause I have a ton of them. Anyways I hope you enjoyed this last self-indulgent bit.


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